Unchain My Heart
by GemNika
Summary: When Mard arrives at Fairy Tail to promote interguild relations, he finds himself entirely distracted from his initial conquest by a man with flowing green hair and his nose stuck in a book. Why is it that Mard Geer can feel darkness pouring from this quiet mage? (Companion to JackaLu Week 2016).
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So a long, long time ago (back in 2016), I wrote for JackaLu Week. It was brought to my attention by a certain enabler that the first few prompts seemed cohesive enough to be all part of a single universe. They weren't intentionally written that way before, but now… Well, I'm rolling with it.**

 **So, this particular story takes place between JackaLu Week Day 3** _ **Sharp**_ **and Day 4** _ **Filthy**_ **. I hope you all enjoy the one shot origin story of Mard and Freed's sinful romance.**

* * *

Coordinating the arrival of his guild at Fairy Tail's base of operations wasn't too difficult an endeavor. Not for Mard Geer Tartaros, a master strategist and King of the Underworld. Yes, it probably helped that all of Fairy Tail was fully aware of Jackal's relationship with their little Celestial mage. What was her name again? Well, it wasn't all that important. He was just surprised that she hadn't been killed yet from Jackal's unsavory nibbling habit.

No, what was important was this venture he was about to embark upon. For the purposes of interguild relations, of course. Mard wasn't one for ulterior motives.

He was most definitely not travelling miles across the continent to visit with a silver-haired barmaid. He was also not hoping to find out just how she collected demon souls. And he had no idea that she even existed because of that blonde woman who screamed Jackal's name loud enough that he could hear it through the stone wall separating his throne room from Jackal's bedroom.

No, Mard was travelling to Fairy Tail only to promote interguild relations. Nothing more.

That was what he kept telling himself as he and the other demons finally reached the border of Magnolia. Because of his status, Makarov had informed him via that pathetic lacrima creation that the town guards would make the trip to the guild run as smoothly as possible.

Mard hadn't been sure what, exactly, that meant until an alarm blared and he and the others watched as the entirety of Magnolia split before them, leaving a wide cobblestone chasm for them to walk along on a direct path to the Fairy Tail Guild.

That was a creative way to welcome guests.

Kyouka and Jackal were silent as they walked along the path behind Mard, just as they should be. They knew there was nothing that needed to be said. His grip tightened around the Book of E.N.D. once they reached the guild's entrance. This was sure to be a most unpleasant endeavor. He could hear the mongrels inside shrieking like a barrel full of banshees.

"Let's get this over with," Kyouka sighed. "I still have things to do today."

Mard slanted a glance her way, causing the demoness to go rigid under his scrutiny. Ah, he did so enjoy that reaction. Though, she was right. They needed to get themselves inside, deal with those initial unpleasant reactions from these Fairies, and then his minions could mingle. It was all a bit too… precious for his tastes, but if it kept the others occupied and out of his hair then Mard supposed he could do this.

It was his one good deed for the century.

* * *

The initial reactions really weren't too bad, all things considered. Mard could only assume that it was Jackal's excitement over the brawl happening in the middle of the guild. He'd jumped into the fray and punched Natsu in the testicles. It was almost humorous enough for Mard to chuckle.

Almost.

He waved Kyouka away and turned his attention to the bar. If he was going to find that barmaid who collected demons, she would be there. And it seemed Kyouka had the same thought, since she strode past him on a direct path to a red-haired woman who seemed to be having a very intimate moment with a piece of cake.

And these people were the ones who had defeated them?

Pathetic.

With his chin held high, Mard walked further from the open doors and into the madness. He didn't try to skirt around the sweaty, undulating bodies engaged in combat. Such things were far beneath him. No, instead he walked right through the middle of it all as his gaze honed in on her bright silver hair and wide blue eyes.

What an interesting creature. He could feel the demons within her, writhing around and trying to claw their way back from his presence as he drew nearer. And all of that darkness was wrapped up in such a delicate package.

"Mira, more beer!"

"Right away," she called back. Her smile never faded while she bustled around the bar, handing out mugs of ale, passing whole trays ladened with food to a purple-haired woman who rushed out to the tables to deliver them.

He was nearly at the bar when she disappeared into a back room. That just wouldn't do. He refused to sit down on a barstool and wait for her, but it would probably be a good idea to speak with Makarov in person. Mard turned toward the little man with enough grace that anyone who may have been watching him would be unaware that his original target had left him behind.

Makarov took a large gulp of his beer and smacked his lips, giving Mard a drunken grin. "Ah, good to see you, my boy."

"Indeed," he said, turning to face the humans who were causing a ruckus behind him. He'd much rather have them where he could see them.

"Your guild seems a bit thin, though," Makarov mused.

Mard glanced at him for a moment. "A small scouting group is more tactically efficient," he said. "And less domineering."

"I guess so," Makarov chuckled. He waved his mug in front of him, nearly splashing its contents on Mard's sleeve. "I do expect all of you next time around. Can't really make friends here if your demons aren't around, now can they?"

Mard simply nodded and watched the crowd again, holding tightly to the book in his arm. He'd considered not bringing it at all, but the last time he'd left it unattended… He was still finding bits of viscera in the crevices of his throne room from the idiot who'd tried to steal it.

It was while he scanned the gathered humans - barely sparing Jackal's flying body any attention as he crashed into a very sturdy wooden pillar - that something bright and intriguing caught his eye. A quick flash of lustrous green hair had Mard's bored gaze sharpening, honing in on it. Something dark and sinful called to him from the owner of that hair, darker than even the demons dwelling within the barmaid who had just emerged from the guild's kitchen.

He couldn't find it in himself to care about her presence when he watched a thin hand emblazoned with a bright green Fairy Tail mark push that lustrous hair away from the man's face. From this distance, he could clearly make out a single turquoise eye framed with long lashes, the regal point of his chin. A thin, delicate nose. But his hair…

Mard had a deep appreciation for well-maintained hair. And this man was clearly of the same belief that long tresses deserved to be tended carefully. Not a single hair was out of place on that man, even though there were two lightning-shaped sections sticking up on either side of his head. Those were either cowlicks or a stylistic choice.

Mard had the errant thought that they gave him the appearance of having horns. Considering his own etherious form had horns, it was most definitely a pleasant coincidence.

"Ah, I see you found Freed Justine," Makarov said. "One of my smartest children."

Mard simply nodded, finally pulling his gaze from Freed's - what an interesting name, so elegant - hair and face to take in the rest of him that was visible above the dented wooden table he sat at. What he could see was a far cry different from the others in this disgusting den of Fairies. There, among the trash, was a beautifully crafted flower. A lenten rose, thriving despite the horrendous conditions surrounding it.

Mard smirked to himself. What a fitting description. Freed's maroon jacket and pale cream cravat were nearly the same color as those perennials.

"You might be wondering how he can read with all the noise in here," Makarov said. Mard nodded again, never taking his eyes away from the man in question. He watched as Freed closed the book he'd laid on the table, then changed it out for another larger tome with yellowed pages. "I can't be entirely sure. He's either very good at concentrating, or he's written runes around himself so he can't hear anything else."

A Rune mage? Oh, this was even better. He was definitely intelligent, if he'd been able to master his craft. And considering the way he held himself as he devoured the text in his hands - such long fingers - Mard could only assume that this Freed person was no novice.

"You should go and talk to him," Makarov said. Mard didn't notice the way the elderly man's lips lifted in a lecherous smirk. "I'm sure he'd be more than willing to discuss his books with you."

"Indeed," he said. His feet carried him away from Makarov well before he'd made the conscious decision to move. Maybe he should have asked the man why Freed had this darkness swirling around inside of him. Then again, he could always just ask the Rune mage himself. It would give him a reason to interrupt his reading.

Freed flipped to a later page in the book, and Mard watched as his brows pinched only slightly. His eyes travelled even faster over the text, then he stopped. His thin lips parted and his cheeks reddened as he stared down at the page. Freed shifted in his seat, tucked his hair behind his ear. He continued reading and discreetly pulled at his cravat.

Mard continued making his way closer, observing everything he could about the man. He didn't miss the three small wooden totems that began flying in circles around Freed's head, but those went entirely unnoticed by the Rune mage who was much more involved in the text before him. By the time Mard reached the table, Freed had flipped back several pages, scanned something, then returned to his previous page.

What he hadn't expected was for Freed to turn the book so the text was upside down, then begin reading from the bottom to the top, from right to left.

"Interesting find?" Mard asked.

"Very," Freed said without looking away from the page. "Fallacies in Infernai: Syntax as a Morphological Construct. This is… absolutely riveting."

Mard wasn't entirely sure how he should deal with the way Freed's breathless voice skittered along his flesh. His grip on the Book of E.N.D. tightened marginally while he fought to keep his eyes from sliding closed. Oh, it had been at least a hundred years since he'd felt raw desire like this slither through him. None of the demons in his guild knew just what he found attractive. Intelligence. Thin wrists that could be easily bruised with his hands. And an intoxicating voice.

The darkness in Freed swelled and pulsed, but he didn't seem to notice it at all. Mard did. Oh, he felt how it brushed against his senses, testing the waters to see just who it was dealing with.

But Freed had said something that he should probably respond to. "You're interested in Infernai?"

"Definitely," Freed mumbled, flipping through another three pages. He turned the book sideways. "Oh dear…"

Mard leaned forward only slightly to look down at the page that had caused Freed's face to flush even further. It wasn't all that difficult to read. Then again, he'd always known how to read this particular language. But what caught his attention was the content. Porn. Freed was reading porn in the middle of the guild, in a book that was supposed to be about the linguistic constructs of Mard's native tongue.

"Who is the author?" Mard asked.

"M. Traitorous."

Had he been anyone else, he may have laughed. Hysterically. If Jackal was in this position - and if he had the mental capacity to have done something like this - he most definitely would have fallen on the floor and cackled like a mad dog.

How lucky it was that Freed had stumbled on the book Mard had written years ago under a pseudonym. Of course, the text itself was about the conundrum that was syntactic devices used in morphological context in Infernai. But Mard had grown bored with writing it, and he'd wanted to find a way to spice things up. So, he'd hidden something within the text, something that only the most adept cryptographers would be able to find.

And yes, he may have decided to write some rather steamy sex scenes. Ones involving himself and a pliant demon who was rather fond of bondage. And being flogged.

That would explain the look on Freed's face, how his breath hitched as he kept reading. The fact that he could decode this quickly enough to be able to read it instantly had Mard's stomach churning with desire. He'd forgotten what it felt like to have this spiralling heat wash over him.

"I can tell you from experience," Mard said quietly, switching to Infernai. Freed gasped and his head shot up, his widened eyes locked onto Mard's smirking lips. "There is a great deal I left out of those pages."

"Excuse me?"

He thrilled at the calculating edge to Freed's gaze. Even with the sheer embarrassment wafting off of him, Mard could tell that he was still trying to place just who he was speaking to. When he thought about it, he hadn't seen Freed among the mages facing off against his guild in that war. Did that mean he hadn't been in the middle of the fray? Maybe as a Rune mage, he'd been kept back to protect the guild hall.

Now, Mard normally didn't deign to repeat himself, but Freed's initial reaction was just too delicious. He wanted to see what would happen if he said it again, fully admitted to what he was sure the Rune mage suspected.

"Your book," he said, switching back from Infernai just in case Freed had never actually heard it spoken, "Is my book. What you're reading is only a small percentage of the stories I could have told."

It had the desired effect. Freed gulped and slammed the book shut. "W-Well-"

A man with a wide, tongue-lolling grin came barreling over to the table with two more of those little wooden totems, interrupting their conversation. "Freed, man, whatcha doin'?"

"Reading, Bickslow," Freed said, taking on a suddenly bored expression. Mard found himself even more intrigued by the man's sudden shift in demeanor.

"If you found a way to read with a book closed, then you're a next level kinda nerd, baby."

Mard blinked, setting his attention on the other mage. What sort of imbecile dressed like a court jester with skulls on his clothing? From his understanding of human colloquialisms, that was a term of endearment. One used for those a person was intimately involved with. Did that mean that Freed was taken? He was positive that Freed held to the silly human notion of monogamy.

Maybe he would need to quietly dispose of this Bickslow fool.

Freed sighed heavily through his nose. "I am no infant, Bickslow," he said slowly. "And we are not now, nor have we ever been, romantically involved."

"Because you can't handle my fine ass," Bickslow cackled.

"Fine ass! Fine ass!" the totems cheered.

"If Laxus does not have need of me right now," Freed said. Mard found himself even more curious when he saw the way Freed's lips lifted in a small smirk. "Then I think I'll return to my previous conversation with…"

Ah, he must not have realized who he was even talking to. Mard could remedy that, and probably scare off this annoying insect all in one fell swoop. "Mard Geer Tartaros."

Bickslow went rigid and took a quick step away from Mard. The totems flew down and acted as a flimsy barrier between Freed and the Underworld King. That was amusing. "Freed, just stay back," Bickslow said quietly.

"Bickslow, have you forgotten that Master Makarov informed us of Tartaros' visit today?" Freed sighed again and carefully stood from his seat. Bickslow still didn't relax, and the totems hugged themselves against the breast of Freed's crimson overcoat. "Please excuse my teammate," he said, turning his attention back to Mard.

"For the sake of more riveting conversation, I think I might," Mard replied. He blinked slowly as Freed locked eyes with him. The darkness within the Rune mage was positively purring the longer they looked at one another. That was a good sign. "Tell me, do you have demon blood in you?"

"No, I do not."

"Interesting… Your presence says otherwise."

Bickslow's jaw dropped when Freed broke their prolonged eye contact to glance bashfully to the side. "That would be a part of my magic," Freed said. "Dark Écriture Darkness."

"Ah, Makarov told me about your adept use of Rune magic." Not entirely true. Mard knew a great deal about Rune magic previously. Makarov had simply said that Freed used it, and Mard had drawn his own conclusions through observation after that.

Bickslow blinked when he saw the way Freed's cheeks flushed only slightly.

"Would you be interested in a more intensive lesson than the one in that book?" Mard asked, barely holding back a smirk. He noticed the way Bickslow leaned forward slightly to read the title. Yes, he could continue believing that's what he was offering Freed. "How well do you fare with pronunciation?"

"Abyssal, I'm afraid," Freed chuckled. Mard nearly laughed at the pointed joke. Freed paused and glanced around them for a moment, over to a far corner of the guild, then minutely shook his head. "I do have another book at home that has been helpful in translation, but there are some phonological aspects that evade me. They simply do not translate well into text, which is beyond frustrating."

"Actual experience is much more effective," Mard said. It had been a long while since he'd found someone willing to perform this level of verbal cat and mouse. This intricate dance around their mutual desire only served to make him more than ready to leave this wretched building. If they continued much longer, his time-honored control would most definitely slip.

A demon could only be expected to endure the alluring sight of those thin lips perfectly forming each syllable as he spoke for so long. Or the rich texture of his voice in the air. Or those thin hips. Sweet Zeref, Freed was an even more delectable morsel now that he was standing. "I would like to see this text. I believe I can offer some pointers."

Freed nodded and turned toward Bickslow. "Tell Laxus I'm leaving for the day," he said. "I have books to read."

"Yeah, sure thing, bro-hams," Bickslow said absently.

Mard wasn't entirely sure what a _bro-hams_ was, but at least he'd given up on that other term of endearment. Instead, he watched Freed gather his books and carefully set them in a leather messenger bag. He came around the table to stand beside Mard, and they turned toward the guild's doors.

He sent a quick telepathic message to Kyouka and Jackal. The last thing he needed was for them to get out of hand and ruin this budding alliance between the guilds. _"Return to the guild within 48 hours. I will know if you do not comply."_

Jackal's head shot up from where he'd been kissing Lucy's throat to search for Mard in the throng of Fairies, and his golden eyes widened when he saw his guild master exiting the building with someone unfamiliar beside him.

"Jackal, is everything alright?" Lucy asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Who's the dude with the green hair?" he asked.

"Freed," she said. "Why?"

Jackal's nose twitched just when the doors closed, and then he smelled it. Buckets of arousal drifted through the air. Not just from Freed, either. That dangerous scent he picked up nearly burned his nostrils and made him ready to hide under the table with his tail between his legs. His gut twisted so intensely that he was ready to vomit right there.

Jackal had never wanted to find out what it smelled like when Mard Geer was turned on. He'd honestly thought the Definitive Demon was incapable of something like that in the first place. Apparently, he'd been wrong. Really fucking wrong.

"Jackal?" Lucy asked.

He shook his head and grinned down at her. "Don't worry about it," he chuckled. He loved Lucy, but he also loved his innards not becoming out-ards. And that was exactly what Mard Geer would do if he ever found out that Jackal had pieced together just what he was planning on doing. "Kinda reminds me of Mard."

Lucy pursed her lips in thought, then giggled when he nipped at her jaw. "I guess they're a bit alike," she said.

* * *

Freed stood in his sitting room and watched as Mard took a seat in his favorite leather reading chair, setting the Book of E.N.D. on the end table at his elbow. Even barefoot, with his pale feet resting on the plush crimson carpet over the hardwood floors, Mard had this commanding presence about him.

"Would you like something to drink?" Freed asked. "Maybe something to eat?"

"That won't be necessary."

The walk from the guild through Magnolia had been both comfortable and filled with tension. The conversation was definitely interesting. Freed had been given an unlimited resource in Mard, and his knowledge of the intricacies of Infernai was refreshing and enlightening. However, hidden beneath Mard's responses was an undertone of flirtatious banter that Freed just hadn't been able to ignore.

And it seemed the beast inside of him had warmed up to the Underworld King quite rapidly. That had been his first indication, while still in the guild, that maybe his interest would be worth pursuing.

The fact that someone had interrupted his reading in the guild wasn't anything new, but it had been the first time someone who wasn't Levy or Lucy had asked about what he was reading with any interest. Even his team didn't do something like that, unless it was directly related to a job. And then, to find that the person who was asking these questions spoke the language he'd been silently translating, and even further that it was the author of the book... Freed believed that he'd finally felt that odd _kid in a candy store_ feeling he'd heard so much about before. It was almost as though he'd been given an entire ten-story library to peruse at his leisure.

But now, they were in his home, and Mard had offered to give him a lesson in pronunciation that he just wouldn't be able to get anywhere else. It had been pure circumstance - and maybe a fair bit of luck - that ended up with Freed getting his hands on that Infernai book in the first place. The information on it was rare and more valuable than anyone seemed to realize. He would be a fool to turn down an offer like this one.

Of course, he should have known that the Underworld King and his deviously flirtatious attitude would want something more from the lesson.

Luckily, Freed was all too willing to give in to his demands.

"I do believe we'll need some rules," Mard said. Oh, Freed was already enjoying this. "I will say a word, and you will repeat it in Infernai. Should you pronounce it wrong…"

Freed shivered at the slow smirk that spread over Mard's lips.

"You will remove one article of clothing."

"That does seem reasonable," Freed said. Although, it almost seemed that he would be rewarded for making a mistake. He was more than ready to disrobe right then and there, to let this demon ravish him in ways he'd only dreamt of being taken before. He did want Mard naked along with him, though. "May I make a suggestion?"

Mard raised a thin, sculpted brow and nodded.

"Should I say the word correctly, I will be allowed to remove one article of clothing from you."

Mard's smirk widened marginally, and Freed fought against the flush on his cheeks when he saw the way those coal black eyes burned with desire. "I believe I can agree to that," he chuckled. "When you mispronounce a word, I will correct you and you will try again. We will not move on until you've completed the task."

Freed crossed his arms and considered the offer for a moment. That would mean that, even if he was entirely naked, nothing else would happen until he said the word correctly. "What would the punishment be for saying a word incorrectly, if I'd already lost all of my clothing?"

"Did you read the section on page 71?" Mard asked. Freed flushed while thinking back to the hidden erotic stories in that book. But had he read that page? He couldn't remember. "Because you are human, I'll temper my hand for spanking you."

"And at what point does the lesson end?"

"A fair question," Mard conceded. Gods, did he have to look so utterly sinful while sitting in that chair? "There are five articles of clothing still on me. So let's say five words."

Freed mentally ran through the clothes he was wearing himself. Without his socks and boots on, there were still seven articles of clothing on his own person. "And if I say them all correctly on the first try?"

"Then I suppose you will have me entirely naked in your chair," Mard chuckled. "The lesson will be complete, and we can move on to something more… challenging."

Freed definitely liked the sound of that. And he could only assume that the odds weren't entirely in his favor. This was Mard Geer, after all. But his strategy had given him at least a little leeway. If he could get the words correct on the first try, then maybe Mard having his clothes removed piece by piece would fluster him.

In the dangerous game of cat and mouse, Freed was determined to be the victor. It was simply a matter of outsmarting his opponent, a several centuries old demon who would also be teaching him a language he'd only ever dreamt of being able to speak fluently.

"Weapons do not count as clothing," Mard said.

Freed nodded and removed his saber from its place on his belt. He carried it over to the wall and propped it up gently. He would have to place it on its stand later on. Once finished, he returned to his place in front of Mard, several feet away from that leather chair holding the object of his desire.

Contrary to popular belief, Freed was no virgin. He was just more discreet about discussing his lovers. And he was, in no way, attracted to Laxus. They had only ever been best friends. It was the blond Dragon Slayer who'd given him a safe space to admit his sexuality aloud, and Freed was eternally grateful for that kindness. But it was nothing more than that. But Mard was just his type, physically. And intellectually. Probably not emotionally - he was sure the demon would want nothing more than this one foray, or a series of them with no emotions involved, but that was alright. Freed didn't need romance in his life. He'd learned the hard way that it was far too complicated, and he'd accepted that it was one need of his that would never be fulfilled.

"I'm ready for my lesson," Freed said.

The way Mard's lips lifted had Freed honing in on his every little move. He propped his elbow on the armrest and leaned his head on his hand. Mard was the picture of regal boredom, even as he slouched just a little. How was it that he could make something so utterly slovenly look so graceful? "We will start simple," Mard said. "Tell me the word _yes_."

" _Da_ ," Freed said instantly. This was going to be all too easy. Freed knew nearly every word in Infernai, from how intensely he'd read the books he had access to. He'd learned how to conjugate verbs, how gerunds were constructed, and even the subject-verb-object word order with its few variant rules in particular instances.

"Correct," Mard said.

Freed had to take a steadying breath before coming closer. Mard had agreed to let _him_ remove each piece of clothing from both of them. He was actually going to be doing this. And suddenly, he felt nervous. How many lovers had Mard Geer Tartaros had in the past century alone? How could he possibly hope to compare at all?

Mard's eyes narrowed slightly. "Have you forgotten the rules?"

Freed jolted and flushed under the demon's heavy glare. His feet finally moved to close the distance separating them. Before he could reach forward to loosen the strap across Mard's chest that held his coat closed, Mard spoke again.

"Kneel first," he said. Freed blinked in surprise, but he nodded all the same. Slowly, never taking his gaze from Mard's, he knelt in front of the demon. And it seemed to have a pleasant effect on him, if the way Mard barely nibbled his lower lip was any indication. "One article of clothing, Freed. Your choice."

It only made sense to remove his coat first. Freed brought his hands up, hoping with everything he was worth that Mard wouldn't notice the anticipation that made his fingers tremble just before they touched the strap holding Mard's coat closed. He took his time though, never faltering in his task, and once the buckle was loosened, Freed took a chance to place his hands on Mard's chest.

He could feel the tantalizing power leaking from the demon king before him, even from just this single touch. Part of him wondered if it would overwhelm him as they moved forward. Would it be too much for him to bear? Would Mard have to hold back to avoid killing him?

That single thought sent a tingle down the center of his stomach, tightening his muscles in that delicious way he craved. His fingers curled just slightly on Mard's chest, taking in the fine fabric of his shirt. Slowly, they moved up beneath the lapels toward his throat. Freed watched in a trance as his fingers gently curved around the back of Mard's neck, teasing the silken strands of his deep purple hair hanging down in a ponytail. Freed sat up on his knees to bring himself just a little closer. Close enough to smell the dash of dark spice hanging around him. Was that cologne, or just his natural scent wafting off of him?

Oh, what did it matter? Mard smelled delicious. Delectable. Downright edible. And this sultry look in his eyes as Freed's hands finally moved down toward his shoulders, pushing the coat along with them, was more than worth the slowly building discomfort in his knees. The coat caught on the chair, and Freed's lips quirked. "I believe I'll need you to lean forward."

If he'd known that Mard's midnight black eyes would spark with desire so intensely, Freed wouldn't have found himself so breathless. Or maybe he still would have. Maybe it was just the effect that this particularly scrumptious demon had on him.

Mard leaned forward inch by devastatingly slow inch, and he didn't stop until their lips were very nearly touching. Until their slow breaths mingled in the minimal space between them. It took all of his willpower to continue pushing the coat down Mard's arms. He didn't stop - though he did slow down marginally to feel those lean biceps, his elbows, his thin wrists - until the coat was left dangling over the arms of the chair.

"Are you prepared for the next word?" Mard whispered.

"Gods, yes," Freed rasped.

Mard brushed Freed's nose with his own. "Books."

His eyes were half-lidded as he answered, " _Knigi_."

"Incorrect," Mard chuckled.

Freed's eyes snapped open and he drew back, his brows drawing together in confusion. Wrong? How the hell had he been wrong? Freed was _never_ wrong. Not when it came to translating, or foreign languages in general. He couldn't be wrong. "I beg your pardon?"

"I am not one for pardons, but if you are begging…" He grasped Freed's chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head back. "Listen closely."

Freed couldn't stop his eyes from sliding shut when Mard's fingers drifted over his left cheek and pushed his hair behind his ear. He felt those thin lips ghosting across his flesh, and when Mard lightly nipped at his ear, Freed failed to hold back a quiet, aroused whimper.

" _Knigi_ ," Mard said. "Listen again… k- _nyee_ -g-yee-eh."

Never in his life had the word _books_ been so alluring. Hadn't that been what he'd said? At first, Freed had worried that he'd used the wrong conjugation. But no. _Kniga_ was for a single book. _Knigi_ was for more than one. He'd been right. What was Mard playing at? "That is what I said."

" _Knigi_ ," Mard said again. "What you said was socks, not books."

Freed hadn't known there was an Infernai word for socks. He'd never come across it in the texts he'd read. And it made sense for there not to be a literal translation of that word to begin with. Demons didn't wear socks, from what he'd noticed. Jackal didn't, but he was always barefoot anyway. Mard didn't either, and Freed had very discreetly watched as he'd removed his shoes in the foyer. But they really had a word for socks?

Sadly, he'd been so preoccupied with this sudden conundrum of the word socks even existing in Mard's native language that the feeling of slim fingers quickly loosening the belt around his waist startled him. Mard toyed with the golden buttons on Freed's coat and smirked. "Try again."

" _Knigi_." Freed went rigid at the sound of Mard's low chuckle while he pushed the first button through the hole. Then the next. He couldn't find the will to move, even as Mard gripped the edges of his coat and pulled him closer.

"You would do well to remember that the vast majority of this language is reliant on vocal intonation. Emphasize the first vowel, not the velar stop. That is not a syllable, but an inflection. Like a grace note that is barely touched upon." Mard drew back and glared down into his widened eyes while pushing his maroon coat down his arms and letting it pool on the floor. "The first true syllable should be higher in pitch than the second."

None of the books Freed had read mentioned a single thing about pitch being so important. Or about the proper syllabic emphasis. Oh, this wasn't going to be good. He could say it, though. Now that he knew the trick to doing it, Freed just had to take his time, remember the rules of the language, and say the word carefully. So he did, and when he saw the way Mard smirked at him, Freed was sure he'd messed up again.

"Correct." Mard sat back in the chair slowly, gazing down at Freed who let out a sigh of relief. He deftly unfastened the buttons on the pale grey vest Mard wore, then shifted slightly on his knees to get a little more comfortable. "When you are ready."

Freed nodded slowly and sat back on his heels while taking in Mard's slightly disheveled appearance. Damn this demon for being so edible.

"Master," Mard said.

"Which variant?" Freed asked. It wasn't easy to miss the suddenly intrigued smile playing at Mard's lips. Had that been a test, to see if he would pick the wrong word? Or maybe he could have said the right word for Master, but it would have been the wrong variation based on context.

"I will leave that up to you," Mard said. "Do keep in mind to whom you are speaking."

Freed was just a touch embarrassed by the way his cock hardened when he heard that word. _Whom_. And in proper context. How desperate was he to hear someone using proper grammar while speaking? Desperate enough that it was making him painfully hard.

" _Gospodin_ ," Freed said, ignoring the flush on his cheeks. He was sure that Mard would pick up on the variation he'd chosen. This was one he'd memorized immediately when he'd come across it.

"Interesting," Mard said. "Is that how you see me?"

A lord. A ruler. The variant that signified a servant speaking to the person who owned them entirely. And in some contexts, a sexually dominant being. Was that how he saw Mard? Of course it was. Because this was a king of demons, the ruler of the Underworld. And yes, Freed most definitely hoped that he would be the dominant one in their escapades. On occasion, Freed did enjoy reversing that, but most often he preferred following the rules of another, bowing down and accepting everything his lover had to offer.

Freed smirked and lifted his hands to the frilled collar of Mard's shirt, more than ready to claim his prize. Yes, he could have chosen to remove the belt, but he was greedy. He wanted to see what lay beneath. He could only imagine the pristine ivory skin stretched taut over lightly defined muscles. Would Mard's hips stick out just a little like Freed's did? Would he be so thin beneath his clothes that his navel was barely noticeable? Was there hair on his chest, or was it completely bare? So many questions, and Freed was moments away from getting the answers to all of them.

Mard grabbed his wrists and squeezed, pulling a pained hiss from the Rune mage. "While flattering, you are incorrect," he said.

Freed gasped as he was dragged up off the floor. Mard yanked him forward, forcing the Rune mage to straddle him in the chair. Luckily, he'd gotten a reading chair with a wider seat - he had a habit of shifting while reading alone until he was sprawled at odd angles in his seat - so he didn't have to worry about there not being enough room for his legs on either side of Mard's hips.

"All variations of Master require more of a rasp to the voice," Mard said. He placed Freed's hands on his chest, then reached up and began unbuttoning the Rune mage's shirt. He completely ignored the cravat, even though that was the next logical piece of clothing to remove. With each button, Freed's cheeks grew hotter. Would he really be undressed first? "Are you familiar with ejective affricates?"

"Voiceless consonants produced with a glottalic egressive airstream," Freed said, his voice trembling as his chest was fully bared. Mard's fingers slowed when he reached the last button before Freed's pants. "I have only read about it. I've never heard a language that actually uses it regularly."

"Infernai uses a great number of ejectives, both affricates and fricatives," Mard said. He looked down at Freed's shirt while gently untucking it from his pants. He unfastened the final two buttons and his hands trailed up the length of Freed's torso, his fingers slowly skittering over trembling muscles. "It makes full use of glottal consonants."

"D-Does it?" Freed nearly whimpered as Mard leaned forward and ran his tongue mere centimeters above his nipple.

Mard ignored his question in favor of lightly biting across his chest while peeling his shirt off and down his arms. The fabric caught on his hands, but Mard left it there, binding Freed's hands loosely behind his back. "Try again."

" _Gospodin_ ," Freed rasped, putting more emphasis on the first syllable.

"Incorrect," Mard hissed. He bit Freed's chest harder, pulling a startled yelp from the mage in his lap. Freed's skin burned along the path Mard's lips left in their wake up to his throat. The demon didn't look away from his prize, the pounding pulse against his lips, while quickly removing Freed's belt from his pants. "You must growl, Freed."

"May I-"

"Again."

Freed gulped and tipped his head back to give Mard more access to his throat. He wanted so much more than this, but nothing would happen if he couldn't get this word right. They were only on the third of five. Would he really be able to last that long? He didn't even know what this word was supposed to sound like. There were no guides written in a phonetic alphabet that he could follow. He'd been working mostly on educated guesses when it came to speaking Infernai.

He tried again, and failed. It surprised him when Mard didn't try to remove his pants. He was supposed to. Those, his boxers, and cravat were the only articles of clothing he had left. Except Mard was far too preoccupied with peppering the bared flesh of his chest and shoulders with small, nearly painful bites and open-mouthed kisses.

Freed couldn't be sure what had turned the demon into this ravenous beast who seemed ready to devour him, but he definitely didn't mind it. Not one bit. Though, he would have preferred that attention being set somewhere else. Like his lips.

"Like this," Mard rasped. He grabbed Freed's hips tightly and forced them to roll only once. Freed's breath stuttered when he felt the prominent arousal tenting Mard's pants, how it pushed against his own hard cock that was just waiting to be set free. "Repeat after me, Freed. _Gospodin_."

Freed shivered as the sound of Mard's voice changed into something far more animalistic than he would have thought possible with human vocal cords. He could feel Mard's lips moving, forming the different consonant clusters that he knew should have been there, but the depth of his voice was rich and full. It vibrated in Freed's chest from where Mard's lips had been when he'd spoken. Freed tried again.

"Wrong," Mard said. He repeated the word two more times, and Freed listened closer. There had to be some sort of trick to doing this, something that he just hadn't picked up on. Could he even do that with his own voice? Could his human vocal cords vibrate at such a low frequency to deepen his voice into a growl like that?

If he got this wrong again, Freed would be naked. Well, that was assuming that Mard took the time to actually remove them.

"Once more," Freed pleaded, a strangled moan crackling in his throat as Mard's hips thrust up against his clothed erection.

"Say it," Mard growled.

This was his last shot. He had to get this right so that Mard would actually have more than just his coat and vest missing. Freed wanted to feel skin brushing against his chest and stomach, not the soft fabric of Mard's shirt. Maybe if he tried to change it a little more? If he raised the pitch of the first syllable by a few degrees and accented it? Then maybe, if he tried pretending to be Laxus when someone tried to take his headphones away… maybe that would work. " _Gospodin_ …"

The last thing Freed had expected was for Mard to quietly curse and tackle him to the floor. His head thudded on the lush carpet - something he was highly thankful for, since it probably saved him from being concussed - and he gasped when he felt Mard's fingers hook into the band of his pants and boxers.

"Tell me to rape you again, and I will not be gentle."

"R-Rape?" Freed let out a rather undignified squawk when his clothing was quite literally torn from his body and tossed to the far corner of the room. "I wasn't-"

"You were," Mard rasped. His narrowed eyes drank in the sight of Freed's fully naked form from lithe shoulders down to his thin hips. His hands kneaded Freed's quivering thighs, higher and higher until he was nearly touching the weeping arousal that sat proudly at attention. "Our lesson is complete for now."

"But I haven't-"

"It. Is. Complete," Mard snarled. He leaned down and ran his tongue from Freed's navel up the center of his chest, marveling at the low, heated moan that drifted past the Rune mage's lips.

Freed wanted to protest further. He never would have told someone to rape him. He'd been saying the word Master, just like Mard had wanted. He really wanted to tell him that, but his lips were captured in a searing kiss that had his toes curling in an instant. Those thin lips he'd been admiring since first seeing the Demon King moved desperately over his own, and Freed was powerless to stop him. He didn't want to stop. Not when Mard forcefully parted his lips with that devilish tongue to steal his breath.

Mard collapsed on top of him, and Freed moaned when he realized that the demon was already shirtless. When he'd had the time to remove his shirt was beyond Freed's comprehension, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the darkness he could taste in their kiss, Mard's hands grasping and kneading at his flesh, how his legs spread so easily to accommodate thin hips that wasted no time in rubbing Mard's clothed erection over him.

If only his hands weren't still stuck in his shirt, he would be able to do so much more. But the damned buttons at the end of his sleeves were caught on his wrists, and no matter how much he struggled against the fabric, he couldn't free himself. His lungs screamed for air, but Freed ignored it in favor of curling his hips into Mard's next thrust.

The low hum he received in response had his skin tingling.

Mard broke away from his lips, and Freed gasped for the air he'd been denied for far too long. "It seems I'll have to keep your lower lung capacity in mind," he rasped.

Freed wanted to tell him that he would gladly die of asphyxiation if it meant they could keep kissing like that. He pulled in a breath to do just that, and then his mouth ran dry as Mard reached up and removed the band holding his hair in its usual high ponytail. Thick, indigo tresses cascaded down around them, tickling his chest and stomach. Suddenly the air was filled with the overwhelming scent of roses. How had he not realized this was what Mard smelled like? With how close they'd been moments before, he should have noticed it.

It didn't matter though, because he smelled it then. Gods, it was heavenly. Almost as heavenly as the way Mard nipped at his swollen lips.

The floor was definitely not where Freed had planned on having sex. No, he'd been positive that they were going to be in his bedroom for this. But when Mard had seen the rich mahogany furniture of his sitting room, they'd needed to make a detour. He was sure it had everything to do with the wall of books behind his reading chair. What would the demon do if he found the library that Freed had repurposed his spare bedroom into?

"I believe we should be somewhere more comfortable," Freed said.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

"With my hands stuck in my shirt and lying on a rug?" Freed chuckled at the sly smirk he was given. "Definitely."

Mard kissed his chin and down the column of his throat, pausing at his cravat. "I do not plan on moving."

"I can move you," Freed said. He should have anticipated the playful bite at the hollow of his throat that had him whimpering with need. It had been ages since he'd taken a lover who was so vicious.

"I would like to see you try."

Freed moaned quietly as Mard's tongue burned a searing path down his chest once more. That lithe muscle circled one nipple before pulling it into his mouth. While he was otherwise occupied, Freed concentrated on writing a quick set of runes that could disintegrate his shirt. He was willing to sacrifice the thing in favor of mobility.

He cried out as Mard's hand wrapped tightly around his aching shaft and started to stroke him. Liquid fire raced through his veins, but he had to focus. Even though he was finding out just how soft the skin of Mard's hands was, he couldn't let himself get lost in each slow pass over him. Mard reached the tip and circled it with his thumb, his teeth scraping over Freed's chest to his other nipple.

Before he could be swept away in the sea of passion that Mard's carefully crafted movements promised, Freed moved his hands out from behind him and swiped a long line of runes over Mard's back. He was left panting as Mard's head drew back and a wicked sneer pulled at his lips.

"What is this?" Mard spat. Rage burned in his midnight eyes while the magical text coiled around his arms and perfectly sculpted chest, but Freed simply watched as the demon disappeared in a series of fluttering purple runes.

He took a moment to breathe, to calm himself back down from the pinnacle he'd been climbing toward, once Mard was no longer kneeling between his legs. His eyes closed for just a moment. His stomach fluttered at the thought of what was to come. Mard Geer Tartaros was going to turn him into a quivering mess, and he found himself more than ready to let it happen. As runes trailed from his fingertips and settled on his flesh, Freed bit his lip in excitement and smiled.

* * *

It took several seconds of lying on his back and staring at an unfamiliar canopy of rich crimson fabric for Mard to realize just what Freed had done to him. The plush cushioning beneath him covered in soft cotton sheets was a good indication. He'd been teleported to a bed. That sly little minx had written teleportation runes right onto his skin when he'd been preoccupied, and had actually managed to gather enough power in them to transport him to a bed.

Most likely, he was only upstairs from the sitting room they'd been in, but even that was no small feat.

Oh, Freed was going to pay for duping him this way. He would need to be rewarded for his cunning intellect, of course, but it was the principle of the thing. No one tricked Mard Geer. Not even someone with such a delicious body as Freed Justine.

His cock twitched and his eyes slid closed while he remembered just what it had been like to feel those bony hips and defined abs under his hands, the way his thighs had trembled. Freed had been the picture of submission with his white dress shirt caught beneath his body on the rug, trapping his hands on the floor, with his eyes so wide and horrified after having his pants ripped off.

Mard hadn't been able to help himself though, not when he'd heard that needy whine in Freed's voice as he'd all but begged to be tasted, bitten, pinned, and then raped. Of course, Freed hadn't known he was saying those things just from mispronouncing a single word. He'd been trying so hard to call Mard his Master. They would need to work on his growling much more though if Freed planned on ever being able to speak the language.

He wasn't sure how long he laid in that bed, thinking about the Rune mage who had riled him up. Mard's eyes opened again when he felt the power in the room shift. It was a mesmerizing sight to see Freed materialize in cascading waves of glowing purple runes, sitting astride his hips. The fact that he could feel his soon-to-be-lover's flesh against his own was surprising though.

How had he gotten naked? His pants had been on when he was downstairs tormenting Freed. Unless…

Mard watched a devastating smile spread over Freed's lips while he crawled down his body, and he knew. This was also the Rune mage's doing. He must have written rules into those slithering lines of text to make it so that only Mard would be teleported, not his pants. Lightly calloused fingers massaged down his chest, and Mard lifted his head only to find Freed licking his lips while those heated turquoise eyes drank in the sight of his arousal.

There were no words spoken as Freed leaned down and dragged his tongue over the thick vein in his shaft. Mard held back a curse when those thin lips wrapped around him, slowly sucked him further into the wet heat of his mouth. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could handle though. Just knowing that the Rune mage was already so ready to continue had Mard more than willing to move this along.

But his mouth...

Mard's fingers carded through silken green strands and wrapped tightly around the back of Freed's head. He said nothing as he forced the Rune mage's head down harder than before. He reveled in the way Freed choked around his cock every time it battered his gag reflex. It was made even better when he realized that Freed wasn't struggling to push him away or make him stop. Instead, those trembling fingers reached down and fondled his balls, grasped at his hips and silently urged him to thrust into his mouth.

His other hand rested in Freed's hair and he paused with only the tip nestled between those swollen lips. "Deep breath," he whispered.

Freed's teary eyes widened. He didn't breathe in, but Mard was done waiting. Just seeing the moisture clumping Freed's long lashes was enough for him to force Freed's head down until he hit that pesky barrier.

"Relax your throat, or this will hurt," Mard hissed. He knew Freed was struggling. He could feel it in the way the Rune mage's throat tried to constrict even further to stop him from pushing deeper. But Mard wanted to feel that tightness on his cock. He wanted Freed to struggle against him - either because he needed air or because he couldn't handle the thickness clogging his throat. "Relax."

Mard let out a shaky breath when Freed slowly gave in and the tip of his aching cock squeezed into his throat. Freed gagged, his body curling as he tried to pull away, but Mard didn't let go. He forced himself deeper until Freed's nose was buried in the perfectly trimmed hairs above his arousal, then held him there for a moment before lifting Freed's head.

He loved the way it sounded when Freed coughed. Their eyes locked, and he pushed Freed's head down faster than before. With each rough thrust, it became easier to slip into his throat and feel the wicked tightness when he gagged. But Mard needed this relief. He'd been so wound up while they were downstairs, and he couldn't stop himself even as Freed grabbed his pistoning hips to try and make him stop.

"Take it, Freed," he growled. "Please your Master."

Freed's slackened lips suddenly tightened around his shaft. He stopped fighting and gave in to Mard's demands so easily, the demon was taken aback by it. Had that been what he'd needed to hear? Something so simple, just the smallest command that he wanted to be pleasured this way? He would need to keep that in mind. If Freed just needed a little encouragement, then he could do that.

"Yes," Mard groaned. He didn't mind one bit as Freed took the lead, moving his head faster than Mard had thought he'd be able to. Instead of staying nestled in his throat with short, powerful thrusts, the Rune mage drew back and circled his tongue around the tip, then slammed back down. Over and over again. Harder, faster. Just the way Mard liked. His eyes slid closed and his head tipped back into the pillow while he allowed his lover to show him just what he could do. "Yes, Freed…"

All too soon, he yanked the Rune mage away from his hips and dragged him up into a kiss that could have raised the dead. Mard didn't care about the spit trailing down Freed's chin as his lover's tongue plunged into his mouth. All that mattered was this heat spreading down the tips of his fingers while he rolled to pin Freed to the bed, kneeling between his legs. When Mard pulled back from the kiss and looked down at him, he paused.

Freed's emerald hair was splayed across cream-colored sheets. His lips were swollen and glistening, his eyes half-lidded. And while the sight was definitely arousing, that didn't leave him breathless. Not nearly as much as the mismatched gaze staring back at him. His right eye had a black sclera surrounding a glowing purple pupil. And just by looking into it, Mard could feel the demonic energy Freed had said was part of his magic calling out to him.

Freed licked his lips while looking up at Mard, confusion pinching his brows when he saw the wide-eyed stare sent back at him. "Is everything alright?"

"Your eye," Mard whispered. His fingers trailed lightly across Freed's flushed cheek, pushing his bangs behind his ear. Was it always like this? Was that why he kept it covered with his hair, so no one would be able to see it? Based on how the Rune mage's eyes widened, how he tried to push Mard's hand out of the way to cover his eye once more, he guessed that was the case.

"My apologies," Freed muttered quickly. "I-" He hissed when Mard sifted his fingers through his bangs and gripped the roots tightly, holding them away from his face.

"Do not hide this from me," Mard commanded. The longer he looked at that eye, the more he found his blood boiling with need. And here he'd thought the prospect of Mira Jane having demon souls in her was intriguing. But he'd been right in setting his attention on Freed. This was so much more than a few demon souls. "You have a demon inside of you."

"It's just part of my magic," Freed said. He was lying. Mard could tell. He knew the feeling this demon was evoking in him. This fire, this desperate need that called to the darkness swelling where his soul should have been. "I swear, it's not a demon. I lost control. I'll just… I need a moment."

Mard's eyes narrowed while he watched the sclera slowly fade to white. "Stop," he snarled. He didn't want Freed to bury this power. This long-familiar energy that begged him to hear its call. It had been so long since he'd felt this demon. A little over one hundred years, if he remembered correctly. He'd had such a deep connection with Gada back then.

Was that why he'd been drawn closer to Freed to begin with?

No, it hadn't been this energy within him. He'd been enthralled by Freed's beautiful hair first, and everything else had followed shortly after.

Still, Freed tried to keep this from him. He grabbed Mard's hand in his hair, and in his flailing attempts at freedom, he ground himself shamelessly against the demon's aching arousal. "It's not a demon," Freed said again. Did he not realize who he was talking to? Mard could tell just what it was. "I'm sorry. I'll make it stop, just…"

Freed cried out when Mard forced his head back, glaring down into his still mismatched eyes. Just like he'd expected, the flash of pain caused the black and purple to overtake Freed's eye again. He didn't notice the tears welling in Freed's eyes and slowly trickling down the sides of his face. "You will do nothing of the sort," he rasped. "Do you think I would shun a demon, when I rule them myself?"

Mard smirked when Freed gasped and shivered. The proverbial light bulb went off, and he could do nothing more than watch as his green-haired lover relaxed beneath him in shock. His grip on Freed's hair lessened to smooth his bangs back and away from his beautifully flushed face. This was something he would need to learn more about, but that would have to wait until later.

He could still feel the heat from Freed's cock against his own, and Mard was well past the point of waiting. He propped himself up on his knees and gazed down at the Rune mage's body on full display for him. Such beautiful porcelain skin, and it was already marked with small pink indentations from Mard's previous bites while they'd been downstairs. He gently grasped Freed's hips, moving his hands higher over the quivering flesh of his stomach, his chest, and finally resting on the cravat that was still wrapped around his throat like an aristocratic collar.

After carefully loosening the fabric and setting it off to the side, Mard looked back into Freed's mismatched eyes. He seemed a little more closed off now than he'd been before. That just wouldn't do at all.

"Would you like to use a lubricant?" Mard asked. He wasn't all that familiar with it himself, not the little vials of gels and creams that could be applied to ease his partner. Spit, blood, and semen were wonderful lubricants all on their own, either separately or combined. He wasn't picky. But that was with full-blooded demons. Freed, while he did have the essence of a demon within him, was still a human. His body probably wouldn't be able to handle the Mard's standard fare of punishment.

For the briefest of moments, he wondered why they were doing this at all. Until very recently, he'd despised humans entirely. He never would have considered bedding one of them, but there was something different about Freed. Something tantalizing that had nothing to do with the demon dwelling in his soul.

"Yes," Freed said softly. Mard waited as he leaned over to the nightstand and pulled out a small glass teardrop vial. He moved to kneel in front of Mard, and Freed bit his lip and hesitated.

"Do it," Mard said with a smirk. He fully enjoyed the way Freed's cheeks darkened from a faint pink tint to a roaring red while he removed the stopper. This was something he'd never done before. How strange it was that this human could surprise him, and could experience a first of his. His narrowed eyes stayed locked on Freed's hands, memorizing the way he carefully poured the clear liquid on his fingers, then brought them to Mard's cock.

Those long, thin fingers curved around the tip, spreading the lubricant over him. Mard held himself completely still, basking in the tenderness of Freed's slow strokes. It was over far too soon for his liking, but then Freed poured the rest of the lubricant on his fingers and reached back to prepare himself.

Mard lifted his hands and brought them to Freed's burning cheeks, pulling the Rune mage into a slow, exploring kiss that he was sure helped to relax him. Though hesitant at first, Freed's tongue slowly began to dance with his. Their lips moved in unison, until Mard heard the first mewl of pleasure from his lover. His hands shifted to collect Freed's hair, and he pulled it over his shoulder.

"Turn around, and don't stop," Mard rasped, kissing him once more before drawing back. "Show me how you pleasure yourself." He waited for Freed to get into position, licking his lips once he was on his hands and knees. The sight of two of Freed's fingers buried in his ass threatened to unravel the demon. He wanted so badly to be nestled in this lithe, muscular body.

Freed paused and dropped his head, then his fingers began to move. He gasped when Mard grabbed his ass and spread his cheeks to get a better view of those digits pushing in, slowly gliding out.

"Did you know I despise liars?" Mard whispered. He smirked when Freed slowed then added a third finger. How thorough. Of course, Mard would have preferred being able to hear the pained cries of his lover while burying himself deeply within him for the first time, but that could happen another time. "Never lie to me again, Freed."

"I-I wasn't," Freed said breathlessly. He cried out a moment later when Mard's hand crashed down on his ass. He grabbed Freed's slender wrist and pulled his fingers from his ass, then forced his hand to wrap around his lubed cock. Mard's hips shifted, pressing himself lightly against Freed's entrance. He couldn't wait anymore. And if the Rune mage refused to tell him the truth, then he needed to learn a lesson.

"I do hope you are ready," Mard growled.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He very nearly moaned when he felt the Rune mage's fingers tighten around his cock.

"Yes, Master," Freed breathed.

Mard smirked at the desire thickening his voice. He didn't whine or simper like some pathetic, needy bitch. No, Freed's voice was low and desperate, but respectful. It slithered down Mard's spine and sent waves of desire washing over his being. How could a mere human do something like this to him? Slowly, taking more care than he would have normally, he pushed forward.

The vice-like grip on the tip of his cock was rapturous. It left him ravenous, more than ready to spear into the Rune mage and take this pleasure for himself until he was fully sated. Still, Mard held back. He focused instead on the way Freed shuddered beneath him, how his back arched so gracefully with every short, careful thrust into him. Once Mard's hips were flush against him, he paused. Freed needed to adjust, he was sure.

His hands smoothed up Freed's spine as he withdrew, and his eyes slid closed at the first quiet moan drifting through the air.

" _Gospodin_ …"

A wicked grin curled Mard's lips. "Rape you?" he chuckled. "Did I not tell you what would happen if you said that again?"

The way Freed slowly turned to look at him over his pale shoulder had Mard's breath stalling in his lungs. That glowing purple iris seemed to dance with carnal desire. "Good," Freed said. "I was hoping I said it right."

It had been intentional? He'd truly meant that and not _Master_ as he'd been trying to say downstairs? Mard moved before he knew what was happening. One moment, he was staring down into Freed's sultry, demonic eye, and the next his fingers were wrapping around the discarded cravat on the bed and shoving it in Freed's mouth. He grabbed the ends of the cravat like reins and pulled back, gagging the Rune mage who groaned and rolled his hips.

"If that is what you wish," Mard growled. His thrusts were hard and heavy, rocking Freed's body forward only slightly before he was dragged back by the gag in his mouth. The violent slapping of skin and Freed muted howls of pleasure filled the air, but all Mard cared about was seeing the way Freed clawed at the bed. How his body so willingly took everything he was given.

Slowly, Freed's voice deepened. His chest vibrated with a low, predatory growl.

"Yes," Mard rasped. "That's the sound, Freed." His hips snapped forward again, and he grinned when that low rumbling sound grew louder. "Just like that."

He held both ends of the cravat in one hand and slowed down while pulling his lover up onto his knees. Mard's legs pushed against the backs of his thighs, forcing him to shuffle forward until his chest was pressed against the headboard. At Freed's soft whimper, he wrapped his free arm around the Rune mage's waist.

"I want you to let go," Mard whispered in his ear, nipping at the lobe. "Let your darkness out."

Freed tried to shake his head, but Mard's grip on the cravat tightened to hold him still. He wasn't sure he'd ever get enough of this powerful feeling. He could so easily kill Freed like this, just snap his neck and be on his way. But he wanted to feel the darkness in Freed's soul coiling around him, reaching out toward his presence so he could bask in it.

Deep down, Mard wanted to know whether what he'd thought was true. Was this really Gada's essence in Freed? Had the demon he'd cared so deeply for found a way to come back to him?

"That is an order," he rasped, his hips surging forward and pulling a keening cry of ecstasy from the Rune mage. "Let me feel it." He thrust harder than before, and Freed used one hand to grip his thigh and the other to hold onto the wall. "Let me taste the sin in you."

Freed gasped as Mard's pace quickened, his nails scraping along the dark grey paint on the wall. He couldn't speak, and while Mard wondered just what he was trying to say around the moistened fabric in his mouth, it wasn't enough to make him take it out. He rather liked this incoherent wailing from his lover. He loved how, as time ticked onward, Freed tried to push back into his heavy thrusts to take more of him at a quicker pace.

His little human was much more resilient that he'd thought possible.

The shift in the air was subtle at first. While Mard roughly bit Freed's shoulder, reveling in the low growl that rumbled in the Rune mage's chest, the pressure in the air increased. It would have been oppressive to anyone else, but not for Mard. Dark, dangerous energy wafted off of Freed in waves, drawing the first pleasured sound from the Demon King.

He moaned long and low as he felt Freed give in to the darkness within him. "That's it, Freed," he rasped. His head turned to take in his lover's profile, and a fresh flash of longing ricocheted through him.

Freed's mouth was forced open, his lips held tightly against his teeth and snarling. The cravat had pulled the corners of his mouth hard enough that Mard was sure the skin would be chafed once they were done. Moisture clumped his long lashes, with fresh tear tracks on his reddened cheeks.

He wondered what would happen if he used his telepathy to heighten Freed's experience. As soon as the thought formed in his mind, Mard had to know. He sent a quick glimpse to the pinned mage of just how broken and submissive he looked in Mard's eyes. And the effect was nearly enough to overwhelm him. It certainly did overwhelm Freed.

Freed's eyes grew wide and horrified, even as his hips pushed back into Mard's. He shook his head, his breaths growing heavier. But Mard felt it where he was buried deep in the Rune mage. He felt the way his muscles tightened, how he tried to hold back even now.

That just wouldn't do.

"Is this what you like?" he panted, roughly biting into Freed's shoulder again and drawing a muffled howl from the Rune mage. "You wanted me to rape you, Freed. Is this what you wanted?"

Before he could deny it, Mard wrapped his hand around Freed's neglected cock that had been smashed against the headboard. He stroked him quickly, uncaring of whether there was too much friction on the sensitive tip.

"The truth," Mard sneered. "Do not lie to me. Is this what you wanted?"

Freed thrashed in his grasp, pushing his body greedily back against Mard's and trying to claw his way to freedom at the same time.

"Or is this what the demon in you wants?" Mard asked with a knowing grin. He pulled away entirely, moaning as he left the warm tightness of Freed's body, then used the cravat to drag Freed down to the bed.

Freed landed on his back with a groan that turned into a scream as Mard pounced and drove himself back in. Mard tossed the cravat off the bed and resumed his previous pace, watching the devastation etched onto Freed's face as he screamed and moaned. Even still, Freed's legs latched onto his hips and his hands massaged Mard's forearms.

"Th-The demon," Freed whimpered. "It's me. W-We're the same!"

"And you both want this?"

"Yes!" Freed moaned. "All of it… _Day mne vse_!"

Mard's eyes widened and his pace faltered for a moment. How had Freed so seamlessly transitioned into Infernai without blinking an eye? He'd growled and rasped in the right places while begging for more. His inflections and pitch were very nearly perfect. His distraction was a mistake he shouldn't have made.

Freed took the lead and curved a hand around the back of Mard's neck, dragging him with enough force that he collapsed on top of the Rune mage. Their lips met in a frenzy of harsh, biting kisses punctuated with vicious growls. When he felt Freed's fingers sifting through his hair, dragging gently along his scalp without pulling the long indigo tresses, Mard let go of any reservations he may have had about being too aggressive with his human lover.

It didn't matter to him whether the citizens of Magnolia could hear Freed's pleasure, or the way he roared like a true demon when he finally found his release. That sound paired with the brighter glow from his eye was one that would stay with Mard for years to come. And for the next several hours, he made it his mission to hear that sound as many times as the Rune mage was capable of.

* * *

Early morning light filtered in through the bedroom window, even with the blinds drawn and the curtains closed. Freed had been awake for several minutes already, and simply allowing himself to soak in the warmth of strong arms wrapped around him. But the sun had already fully broken past the horizon, and that meant that his morning was starting much later than usual.

Then again, with how long he and Mard had been writhing around on the bed - then in the shower, and a third time in the doorway to his bedroom, with Freed being forced to use the jamb to bring himself to completion while the Demon King fucked him senseless - it made sense that he had slept in. They hadn't even eaten dinner the night before. He'd been far too content feeling Mard's hands all over him. He'd reciprocated with his lips trailing over Mard's sweaty flesh, licking and kissing and eventually biting every inch of his body.

His head tilted back and he smiled while taking in Mard's sleep-softened features. The most noticeable difference was in his mouth. While awake, Mard's lips were held just a little tighter, almost as though he was trying to keep his reactions to things in check constantly. But right then, he was so relaxed that Freed didn't see a demon at all. No, if anything, Mard Geer Tartaros looked like an angel as he slumbered the morning away.

The day before had been the first time in a long while that Freed had felt comfortable enough to truly let go with someone. He knew it had everything to do with the fact that Mard hadn't been concerned in the slightest over that darker side of his magic.

No, his demon. At least, in his head, he could admit what it really was. It wasn't just some spell he cast that gave him that monstrous form. He'd spent so long telling others that it was just part of his magic, but Mard had seen through it instantly. And he hadn't been scared by it.

Freed needed to get up. He had to leave this bed. He couldn't lie here and let himself believe for even a second that there would be anything more between himself and Mard than what they'd had the day before. There would be no flowers exchanged between them. There wouldn't be long nights lying in this bed together, looking into each other's eyes and talking in hushed whispers about their deepest secrets. Waking up with Mard's arms around him and the smell of roses lingering in the air wasn't going to happen again, and even if it did it would only be because they'd spent most of the night awake and… fucking.

They wouldn't make love. It wasn't even really sex, as far as Freed was concerned. Mard had fucked him, and he'd loved every second of it. He wouldn't deny that. Even when he'd felt humiliated, even when he'd felt the sting of his lips splitting as Mard pulled a little too tightly on the cravat that had been gagging him, he'd loved it.

But that was nothing more than a means to an end. They'd used each other for a release… well, for several releases. He wouldn't be able to look forward to tender kisses first thing in the morning, or a relaxing massage after a long, difficult mission.

There was nothing here but raw, physical desire and an appreciation for intelligence.

Slowly, Freed lifted Mard's limp arm from where it was draped across his back, watching to make sure he didn't wake his guest.

Yes, a guest. That's all Mard was now. And if he was a guest, then it was only right for Freed to be a proper host. A warm, caffeinated beverage and something to eat were definitely at the top of the list. Freed needed his daily cup of coffee as it was, and his stomach was screaming for nourishment. It was with that thought in mind that Freed went to the adjoining master bathroom and relieved himself. He ignored his reflection and the bite marks and hickeys that he knew were still littering his chest and stomach, and instead put on his favorite navy blue plush robe. He pulled his spare burgundy robe from his linen closet and took it back to the bedroom, setting it at the foot of the bed for Mard when he woke up.

While leaving the room, Freed pulled the hair band from his wrist and tied his hair up into a high ponytail. If he was going to be cooking, then his hair needed to be nowhere near the stove. Besides, he hadn't wanted to dawdle in the bathroom, so he'd skipped brushing the tangles from his hair. If only he'd thought to braid it like he normally did before bed.

He didn't notice how Mard's lips turned down only slightly while he kept sleeping, his arm stretching out across the bed in search of Freed's warmth.

Freed made a simple breakfast of omelettes, toast, and bacon for the both of them. It was easy enough that Freed did everything on autopilot from cooking to brewing a strong pot of coffee to cleaning up the kitchen. He placed their plates on a tray he'd gotten specifically for times like this - when he had a guest who stayed the night, which was usually his mother because she made a point of being more involved in his life after he'd come back from Tenrou - then added two cups of coffee and the cutlery. Just before heading upstairs, Freed made sure to pick up the small carton of creamer that he kept on the off chance he didn't want to drink black coffee. He didn't know how Mard liked his coffee, after all.

Maybe he didn't even like coffee at all. Oh well, it was the thought that counted, he supposed.

Finally, Freed went back up the stairs and to his bedroom. He paused in the doorway when he saw Mard was still asleep. Maybe he should put the food down and try to wake the demon up first. He wasn't sure what the proper etiquette was for waking a demon. Did one do that from a distance to avoid being hit with the demon's curse?

He made his way to the bed and nibbled his lip while gazing down at the slumbering King of the Underworld. He'd made a point of not looking back once he'd gotten out of the bed, so Freed hadn't seen much more than Mard's beautiful face so close to his. But now that he could see all of him, in all of his unholy glory, Freed was left speechless.

This was the man he'd submitted to the day before. Someone so painfully beautiful had lowered themselves enough to be with him, of all people. He'd been lucky enough to feel that sturdy chest brushing against his. Those thin, biteable hips had been grinding between his legs and slapping against his ass. The cream cotton sheet was bunched up around Mard's hips, and his luscious indigo hair was spread out across the pillow with several unruly locks hanging down over his chin.

Mard shifted slightly and Freed found himself entranced by his slender fingers. He'd sucked on those fingers while being pinned in the doorway and taken from behind. Mard had wanted to rid him of his gag reflex entirely, and made a point of shoving them down Freed's throat until he could play and scissor them to his heart's content.

How could he have been so fortunate, to have had a night with someone like Mard?

Why couldn't it be more than just one night, though? Right, even if it was more than a night, it would never be what Freed really wished it could be.

Mard's head turned toward him slowly, and his tired eyes creaked open. Freed was surprised to see his lips turn down into a small pout while one hand brushed across the bed. The space just next to him, where Freed had been so comfortable. The space he hadn't wanted to leave, but it had been necessary. If he'd stayed there, then he would have allowed himself the weakness of believing that romance and relationships were a possibility in his life. He couldn't have that.

"You made me coffee?" Mard asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Freed glanced at the tray he was still holding, then looked back at the deliciously naked man in his bed. "Breakfast as well. We missed dinner."

He hadn't expected to see Mard smile. Ever. Sure, the night before he'd smirked on occasion, and there had been a few expressions that could have been considered in the general family of smiling, but none had looked like this. None of those expressions had been so tender, almost childish.

Why did he have to be so damned beautiful?

Why did he have to rub the sleep from his eyes and stretch with his free hand above his head like this, putting himself on display so perfectly? Why couldn't Freed look away?

He'd had plenty of lovers in the past who were pretty. The perfect eye candy. And never before had he struggled so much to rein in his emotions.

He couldn't expect anything in return for the night they'd shared. What did it matter if Mard wasn't afraid of the demon inside of him like everyone else before? So what if Mard hadn't run from him, screaming in fear and calling him a monster, just from seeing his eye? He would still have to leave eventually. And maybe they would run into one another here and there, and they could share a long night worshipping each other's flesh. Freed didn't need anything more than that. This could be enough for him.

It had to be enough.

"What has to be enough?" Mard asked around a yawn. Freed shook his head to clear his thoughts, and found the great Demon King slowly sitting up. He set the tray down on the bed and let out a quiet sigh. "Wait… coffee first… Need coffee."

Freed's lips quirked only slightly. He carefully handed one coffee mug to Mard, and before he could ask if the demon needed any cream or sugar - damn, he'd forgotten the sugar! - or even warn him of the temperature, Mard took a large gulp. He moaned quietly before taking another sip.

Freed was ready to take a seat, but Mard's hand shot out and he held up a finger. He took one more small sip of coffee before finally pulling the mug away from his lips. "No clothing in bed. That is a crime."

"It's my robe," Freed said.

Mard smiled again and blinked slowly while his gaze burned a trail down the center of his chest. "I am naked. You should be too."

Freed really didn't want to argue. And it wasn't like he had anything to hide. Mard had seen everything he had to offer already. So, he simply shrugged out of his robe and let it fall to the floor, then crawled back into the bed. Freed settled the tray over their laps once his legs were back under the sheet, and grabbed his own mug to take a sip of the rich dark roast.

He tried to hide the fact that he was holding his breath while Mard took the first bite of his omelette. "I didn't know what you would like," Freed said softly, cutting into his own omelette. He knew that the Tartaros demons did eat. He'd noticed that female demon sitting with Erza and sharing a slice of cake with the Requip mage the day before.

"What do you call this?"

Freed blinked in surprise and slowly pulled the fork from between his lips. While he chewed, he watched Mard poke at his slices of bacon with his fork. "Bacon," he said once he'd swallowed. "It's made from pigs. You can use your hands to eat it."

Mard hummed and took another sip of coffee. He set his fork down and sighed heavily, and Freed's head tilted in curiosity while the unkempt demon beside him ran a hand over his face and up through his disheveled hair. What would it be like to brush that for him? Would Mard let him do something like that?

"I really, really would," Mard sighed into his coffee cup.

"Pardon?"

"You brushing my hair. I would let you." His midnight eyes slid open and toward Freed, his hands cupping his warm mug as his lips curled into a sleepy smile. "Based on the state of your hair before I got you in this bed, you understand the importance of…" He paused to sip his coffee again. Freed had seriously underestimated his love of the caffeinated beverage. "What was I saying? Ah, hair. You may brush mine."

He was making it extremely difficult not to smile, even with the hollow ache in his chest that Freed was astutely ignoring. It was easy to ignore in favor of this suddenly giddy feeling that swirled around in his belly. Mard breathed deeply to smell the aroma of his coffee again, bringing a gentle flush to his cheeks from the heat. "After breakfast," Freed finally said. He really needed to control himself.

"And more coffee." Mard set his empty cup on the tray, and carefully picked up a piece of bacon. He took a bite, and his eyes opened a little more as he chewed. "And more of this… you said it was bacon?" Freed nodded, and Mard took another bite. "Genius."

Freed bit his lip and slowly handed Mard his mug. "There is more coffee downstairs, but…"

Mard carefully took the cup and brought it to his lips. He inhaled the rich aroma, took a small sip, and let out a contented sigh. After a moment, he set down the mug and turned his attention to Freed who had just taken another bite of his omelette. He jolted when Mard's hand curved around his cheek and drew him into a slow kiss that had Freed fighting to swallow his half-chewed food. It was a good thing he did, because no sooner had the food gone down his throat, and Mard's coffee-flavored tongue was gently teasing his lips apart.

He'd never kissed someone so soon after waking up, and definitely not with both of them still naked in the bed. Without thinking, Freed leaned into the kiss and let himself be swept away in the sinful tongue that curled around his own. Mard's hand curved around the back of his neck, and Freed stopped caring about anything outside of the two of them in that moment.

It didn't matter to him whether this was all he and Mard would have. It didn't matter what anyone else might say if they found out what had happened between them. He didn't care about the opinions of Laxus or Bickslow or Evergreen, or even his mother.

Nothing could take him from this one moment, this singularly earth-shattering kiss that tasted of coffee and bacon and everything that was _him_.

Freed's hand rested on Mard's soft, stubble-free cheek, drifted higher to sift through his hair. He couldn't be sure how long they'd kissed, but when they finally separated, he looked into Mard's eyes and lost himself in their inky depths. "... Wow."

Mard's gaze danced with mirth as he took in Freed's appearance. He lightly toyed with the Rune mage's ponytail and brushed their noses together. "Wow, indeed," he whispered. Their next kiss was softer, just the barest touch of lips before they both smiled.

"Breakfast will get cold," Freed breathed.

"You taste better."

"The coffee will get cold, too..."

Mard chuckled and kissed him again. "That can be remedied." He grabbed the coffee mug and turned just enough to drink the rest of the still steaming liquid, then set it back on the tray. Freed's lips were captured once more, and he couldn't be sure if it was the lingering heat of the coffee on Mard's tongue or something else that had this fire washing through him.

What he did know was that there was no way to stop his heart from getting involved in this. Not this time. There was just something about Mard that called to the deepest parts of his soul. Freed wasn't hopeful for the future. It would be riddled with heartache for him, and he knew that. He knew that if he let himself believe there was the possibility of a happy ending for them, he would only get himself hurt.

" _I have no intention of hurting you,"_ Mard's soft voice whispered through his head. He tried to draw back in surprise, but the demon had other plans and kept their lips connected. _"Now, stop thinking so much and kiss me, my silly little human."_

Freed laughed into the kiss and pushed the tray away from them, sliding it further down the bed. He climbed into Mard's lap and stopped thinking about the future and what he wished could happen. Instead, he focused on the strong hands gently clasping at the base of his spine and the softly smiling lips that peppered his cheeks and chin and throat with slow, wanting kisses.

 _ **.The End…  
… For Now?**_

* * *

 **Just a few quick notes:**

 **1\. I know Freed's eye isn't always all glowy and shit. I changed it for the purposes of this story, because… reasons.**

 **2.** _ **MadSoullessQueen**_ **is an enabler, and I really enjoyed working with her to incorporate her headcanons about Mard's coffee addiction and Infernai into this.**

 **3\. Yes, I have considered continuing this story, but it's not a priority right now. I have ideas but haven't done much plotting for it. One day, I** _ **may**_ **return to this and pick up where this chapter left off. That won't happen until I've whittled down my ongoing story list though.**

 **4\. I swear, I'm gonna start working on my main stories now that this is finished. It took me a week to write it between late night chats with some amazing gals, helping to edit some chapters (seriously, go check out** _ **Her Sire**_ **by** _ **MadSoullessQueen**_ **, if you haven't already… Vampire!MardLu. Just sayin'...), and real life in general.**

 **5\. This was supposed to be a short thing... We see how that turned out.**

 **6\. The title of this is a reference to an amazing song by the same title, sung by Hugh Laurie. Check it out on Youtube.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I wanted to wait to work on this story until I'd whittled down my ongoing stories, but the plot bunny beckoned. I'm not sure how many chapters this will have. I only have a vague idea of things that I want to have happen at this point, but my brain doesn't feel like plotting. I hope you all enjoy!**

 **(And** _ **Madsoullessqueen**_ **… Surprise!)**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2**_

* * *

"Earthland to Freed!"

The Rune mage jolted and quickly took in his surroundings - the modestly sized compartment his team had reserved on the train, he recalled after a moment - then turned toward Laxus' scowling face. He could barely see his friend's stormy eyes in the dim lighting. "Yes?"

"Dude, what the fuck is up with you?" Laxus huffed. "I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes."

Freed sputtered and glanced toward the open door. Based on how quiet the darkened train was, they'd reached their destination. Oshibana was where the train stopped for the night, and the Raijinshuu's mission was just a few miles outside of the city.

"We're here," Laxus huffed. He stood to his full height and turned to stalk out of the compartment. "Get your shit together."

He left. Freed was silent while collecting his bag from the bin beneath the seat, then rushing to catch up with Laxus. He'd grown accustomed to the brash way Laxus spoke, but to have it directed at him had the Rune mage cringing while shuffling past rows of empty seats. Had Bickslow and Evergreen also already left?

Once they stepped down onto the empty platform, Freed welcomed the brisk autumn air that brushed across his cheeks. He did not, however, welcome Laxus' heavy glare.

"Before we get around the others, we need to talk."

Freed's spine went more rigid than normal, but he nodded all the same. That tone gave no room for argument, so he followed Laxus over to a nearby bench and took a seat next to the hulking Lightning Slayer. "I do apologize for being distracted," he began.

Laxus put one hand up to stop him. "I need you to be honest," he said. Freed nodded. "Are you at a hundred percent?"

"Laxus, of course."

"I mean it, Freed. You've been off for weeks. Something's not quite right, and I have no idea how to try to help if you don't just tell me-"

"There is nothing wrong," Freed chuckled.

"It's not from those anti-magic particles-"

Freed's eyes widened. "Laxus, no," he insisted. He understood the concern. Everyone on their team had been affected by Tempester's curse for months after their battle against Tartaros, but it had been so long since then. If anyone needed to worry, it was Laxus himself. He'd intentionally breathed in those particles to save everyone around 8 Island that day. His lungs were full of holes, even to that day - not that Freed would tell anyone what Laxus had said to him in confidence. "I have fully recovered from that ordeal."

"Then what is it?" Laxus asked. "Something's on your mind, and Bix seems to have it in his head that you fucked that Tartaros-prick, and now you're under his _thrall_ or some shit."

"Mard is not a vampire," Freed sighed.

Laxus' jaw tensed, the muscle in his cheeks tightening enough to have Freed growing exceptionally concerned over whether his molars could withstand the pressure. "Did you?"

His small smile faded. That one night he'd been with Mard Geer, and the odd morning that had followed, flowed through his memories. He wouldn't lie to his closest friend, but Freed distinctly recalled not caring what anyone might have to say over what he did with Mard.

He cared then.

With how Laxus looked at him, with how disgusted he sounded… How could Freed not care?

Still, he wouldn't lie.

"I did," he said softly. Instead of holding Laxus' suddenly burning gaze, Freed looked off toward the opposite side of the train platform. To the line of closed souvenir and snack shops and their darkened windows. Stations were always bustling, so there was never an opportunity to really see things like this. Even though it was well past ten at night, he rather preferred the gentle blue glow of lacrima lightposts along the square. "It was only one night, Laxus. I have yet to see him since."

Silence was his answer, but Freed understood that Laxus just didn't know what to say yet. It gave him a chance to formulate his own thoughts on the matter.

"It has been six months, and I have neither contacted him, nor received any sort of communication from him," Freed continued. He astutely ignored the hollow feeling in his chest at the admission that he had, in fact, participated in a one-night stand. "You have nothing to worry about, Laxus. It was just once."

"Why, though?"

Freed snorted, dropping his gaze to the hairline cracks in the stone under his boots. "That is unimportant," he said. "We were intimate for a night, and that is all."

Laxus was silent again, but Freed had nothing more to say. What could he possibly say, anyway? That he harbored feelings for the King of the Demons, and knew that nothing would come of it. He'd known the morning he'd woken up with Mard Geer still naked in his bed. And even though Freed had been treated to a wonderful morning full of soft kisses, quiet laughter over their shared love of coffee and bacon, and one last shower together, he'd known it was never meant to last. Freed was just some human, so far beneath Mard Geer.

What would a regal creature like him want with Freed?

"You thinking about him?"

"Right now, yes," Freed admitted. He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, running his fingers up through his bangs. The heel of his hand pressed against his right eye, pushing into the damning evidence that he always tried to hide. Ever since that night with Mard, his eye hadn't changed back, even when he tried to force the darkness back under his tightly held control. "It was nothing, Laxus. A mere… experimentation, if you will."

Laxus chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "So because Blondie's bumpin' uglies with Jackal, you figured you'd see what the big deal is?"

"Not quite," Freed laughed, shaking his head. Crass as he was, Laxus still tried to be understanding. In his own way. "And he did offer to teach me that demonic language I've been toying with."

"So he speaks it?" Laxus asked. When Freed nodded, he said, "That's pretty cool. Did it help?"

He wasn't going to tell his best friend just how Mard had been teaching him. Testing him. Teasing him and tasting him before taking him just the way he wanted. No one needed to know about that side of Freed.

"It was enlightening," Freed said, smiling fondly at the ground. "I hadn't known-"

"Dude, don't get started," Laxus laughed, nudging his shoulder. "You'll never stop."

Freed's smile grew wider as he glanced back at Laxus. "Facts."

"You fucking didn't just…"

"I did, in fact, just," Freed said. The look of shock that was sent his way had him laughing again. Just because he was always reading about ancient languages, didn't mean he was unaware of the evolution of language that was happening around them. "And now, I believe this calls for a mic drop."

Freed stood and adjusted the strap on his bag over his shoulder while walking toward the hotel their team would be staying in that night. He knew that Bickslow would more than likely hound him with questions over his behavior on the train, unless Laxus put a stop to it right away, but that didn't mean Freed would ignore the responsibility he had of keeping himself well-rested for this mission.

"Wait!" Laxus called. He used a quick burst of magic to fall in step beside Freed, and they walked in silence for several minutes. It wasn't until they reached the doors that led to the hotel lobby that he spoke again. Quieter, this time. "I won't pry into your personal shit, but that's because I know you'll talk to me if it's important."

"I will," Freed said. Of course he would talk to Laxus about it, if it was important. Laxus was the first person Freed told about his sexuality. He was the first one to know that Freed had lost his virginity to a mage from a small guild when they were seventeen - partially because he'd smelled the pheromones on Freed's clothing, but also because Freed had needed someone to talk to about his confusion over how it had felt.

"So if you tell me it's not him that's distracting you, then what is?" Laxus asked, placing a staying hand on Freed's elbow before he could decide to end the conversation and walk into the hotel. "I've gotta know, man. You're not acting like yourself."

His shoulders slumped. He didn't want to talk about Mard Geer, but part of this was the demon's fault. Not all of it. If Freed just kept that little bit to himself, then it would be alright. Laxus didn't need to know about his eye, because it wasn't a real issue - just a cosmetic one.

The real issue was something far worse.

"My mother called," he said, feeling Laxus' go rigid at his side. "She is coming to visit."

"Shit."

Freed nodded. "Yes…"

"Do we need to get Evergreen to-"

"No," he said while opening the hotel door and holding it for Laxus. Freed crossed his arms over his chest once inside. They ignored the concierge, a woman whose deep purple eyes narrowed while observing their conversation. "I cannot keep lying to her and claiming that I am in a relationship with Evergreen."

"I mean, you could tell her you're single, and-"

"And listen to her rant and rave about finding me a suitable wife?" Freed scowled at the lush red and gold carpeting in the hall. "I would rather-"

"Don't finish that," Laxus muttered. They stopped and he knocked on the door that he knew had Bickslow and Evergreen behind it. Evergreen had said they would get the other room keys, after all. "You're too detailed when you do that shit."

Freed didn't laugh. He couldn't. Even when the door opened, and Bickslow's grinning face appeared in the small opening with his nose sitting atop the chain lock, Freed's mood didn't lighten.

"Whoa," Bickslow laughed. "What, is Freed's mom coming or something?"

"Actually, yeah," Laxus sighed.

Bickslow blanched, and Freed's shoulders slumped. "I have two weeks to decide what to do," he said.

* * *

There was a particular order to things when Freed's mother visited him. She made a point of visiting every few months, but had been unavailable while vacationing in Minstrel recently. He'd been so relaxed in her absence, and now that she was supposed to be arriving within the next few hours, he was wound tighter than ever before.

Everything had to be perfect. She would accept nothing less.

He could already imagine her swiping a white-gloved finger over his bookcase to see if he'd dusted properly, just like the last time she'd been a guest in his home. He could practically hear her opening his refrigerator and scrutinizing his choice of groceries.

 _Why don't you have more milk and cheese?_ Because he didn't like either all that much when he was cooking for himself.

 _Why is that disgusting, orange-stained plastic monstrosity sitting on the top shelf again?_ Because Evergreen made spaghetti for herself and Elfman, and knew that Freed loved her recipe for sauce, so she'd brought some leftovers for him.

 _Your kitchen is a statement of who you are, Freed, so do tell me why there is hardly any food here._ Because he was a working mage, and spent more time in the guild or on missions than he did in his house. A house he'd bought because of her incessant needling. A house that was too large for an eternal bachelor like himself.

 _But, Freed, one day you will have a wife and children, and this house will be far too small to hold all of you._

They'd had the same conversations over and over again, and she still didn't understand. No matter how many times he'd tried to get her to see that a _wife_ and _children_ were nowhere in his future, she'd simply tutted and waved her fan at him in that demure way of hers. It was why he'd eventually given up on telling her anything of real value about himself. She wanted to pretend that they were close, but she didn't know anything truly intimate about her own son.

It was why he let her believe that he and Evergreen had been a couple. His mother hadn't been happy about the choice - she'd made it very clear as soon as Freed returned from walking Evergreen home that the Fairy mage was _beneath him_ \- but at least she could continue pretending that he hadn't hinted at being gay, as long as he was with Evergreen.

He was sure she never acted like this over his three older sisters.

The darkness deep within him wriggled and shot a thought right behind his eyelids. What would his mother do if she learned that he'd let Mard Geer, a man, a _demon_ , fuck him for hours on end?

Freed didn't want to enjoy thinking about the way his mother would struggle to hold her composure, to remain the perfect image of regal beauty while trying to wrap her mind around what he would tell her. How much he'd enjoyed being tossed from one side of his bed to another, how he'd cried and _loved it_ when Mard bit him while slamming into his ass with ease.

She would cry if she knew. She would make a scene, and he would see just how ugly she was inside. She wouldn't be able to hide her disgust at knowing the truth about him. That he'd laid with another man, and that the man in question had been a _filthy demon_.

It would break her.

He _wanted_ to see her broken.

Freed jolted and dropped the crystal fruit bowl his mother insisted he use (even though he rarely bought fruit when she wasn't around). The glass shattered on the wooden floor, but he didn't mind. He ignored his bare feet and the prospect of cutting them while rushing toward the sink to vomit.

Why would he enjoy that? He would never!

Why would he _want_ to hurt her? The last thing he wanted was to hurt his mother!

She wasn't the best, but she cared about him. In her own way. She…

He retched again, and finished emptying the contents of his stomach.

Freed didn't want to hurt her. That was why he had to hide the truth. It was why he couldn't let her see a thing out of place in his home. Because she needed to know that her son - who had been stuck in a magical stasis for seven years, then nearly died at the hands of a demon named Tempester - was alright working as a mage.

He had to make her believe his life was perfect. Just like his sisters' lives were perfect.

She couldn't handle another surprise, and he didn't want her to know the truth.

It would be better for her to live the rest of her life, believing what she wanted about him. He could keep up the ruse until she finally died - probably of old age, when he thought about it. Freed could be miserable, hiding the truth about himself from her.

He had to.

* * *

The hours passed in a blur, and finally, his doorbell rang. Freed took a steadying breath and set the red satin ribbon in place in his book, then placed it on the end table next to his reading chair. Another slow breath, and he stood and walked to the front door. His mother wouldn't ring the bell twice.

More accurately, her driver, Braden, wouldn't ring the bell again. Freed already knew that she was still sitting in the back seat of her SE vehicle, waiting for Braden to return and open the door for her. And he would only do that once Freed answered the front door.

He'd intentionally dawdled once before to see what would happen - while still recovering from Tempester's curse - and it had resulted in his mother yelling at him just as soon as the front door was closed.

He wanted to avoid that at all costs.

"I wish Laxus was here," he muttered as his hand closed over the knob. That would make this more bearable, for a short while. Eventually, Laxus would leave for the night, and Freed would be forced to listen to his mother talk about the Lightning Slayer. Sometimes, it was positive - how powerful he was, how much more attractive he would be if he smiled more.

Freed opened the door and plastered on the diplomatic non-smile that was expected of him to greet Braden.

But it wasn't him.

Freed's eyes went wide in horror at the sight of Mard Geer standing so casually on his doorstep. A soft gust of wind toyed with his violet tresses pulled into that high ponytail. He was just as sinfully, painfully beautiful as Freed remembered. No, he was more beautiful than Freed's memory could dutifully replicate.

He'd forgotten about the sly little lift at the corners of Mard's lips that made him seem both bored, and mischievous. He'd forgotten how intense that midnight gaze was as their eyes locked.

Freed had forgotten the way the darkness in him pulsed with need at the Demon King's proximity.

"Is it rude, in human customs, to drop by unannounced?" Mard Geer asked. His lips quirked just a little more when Freed nodded absently. "Apologies, then. I did not know how to contact you."

Had he wanted to? Freed had wanted to get in touch with Mard Geer, but he couldn't. He hadn't known how - if the demons had use of lacrimas, or other means of communication they preferred - or whether Mard wanted him to do such a thing. Freed had forced himself to accept that Mard wanted nothing more to do with him.

"I have come for a reason, however," Mard said, breaking Freed from his stupor.

He gulped and stepped back, granting the King of the Underworld entry into his home. "P-Please, come in." He closed the door behind them, then bit his lips with unease. This couldn't be happening.

Mard couldn't be there. Not then.

It was bad enough that Freed's mother would be there soon. He'd been a mess of nerves and anxiety for weeks, waiting for this day. Trying to decide what he would tell her. If he would tell her anything. If she would even listen if he tried.

Mard slowly turned to face him. "It was brought to my attention that I am missing something. A button on my jacket has disappeared," he said, taking a step closer to Freed, pinning him against the wall beside the front door with nearly a foot of space between them.

"And you believe it is here?" Freed asked.

He hadn't been rough with Mard's clothing when they'd spent the night together. Still, Freed wracked his brain, trying to remember specific details of their night. When had Mard's jacket been removed? Wasn't the the first thing he'd taken off the demon?

His gaze strayed lower to find Mard was wearing the jacket in question. As Freed counted the buttons, Mard stepped closer again and brought a hand up to brush the hair away from Freed's right eye.

"It is still like this," Mard breathed. His thumb skated across Freed's flushed cheek when their eyes met again. "The darkness is still there."

"It won't go away now," Freed said. He wasn't sure why. He hadn't told anyone about it, but Mard Geer knew the truth anyway. That wasn't part of his magic. It was the reason he _had_ such power in the first place. He hadn't learned a spell that gave him access to a demon's power. The demon lived in him. It was as much a part of him as his organs and bones.

"Good," Mard chuckled. "I want to see it."

Freed whimpered as he leaned closer to bring their lips together. Just before they touched, he turned away. It was nearly painful to force his head to move, but he had to. This couldn't happen.

The timing was all wrong.

Mard couldn't just waltz into his home and pin him to a wall, make him so needy, so ready for more.

"Stop," he breathed. "I will search for your button, and have it returned to you, should I find it."

Mard stopped, his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Freed knew he didn't like being ordered around - it went against his very nature. But this couldn't continue. He'd thought he might be stronger, that they could possibly have a physical relationship. It couldn't happen.

Just as the thought of things only being a one-time thing between them had torn him apart over the last few months, he knew this would too if he didn't stop things.

"I am expecting company," Freed said. He reached up and carefully removed Mard's hand from his cheek, letting his bangs fall in front of his eye once more. "If you have no other business, I must insist-"

"Very well," Mard Geer said. His voice was suddenly colder, sending a devastating chill down into Freed's bones. "As you are otherwise occupied, I will take my leave."

Freed wasn't set at ease in the slightest by the look in those calculating eyes. If anything, he was more tense than before. This wasn't good. His mother would be there any second, and if she saw Mard Geer leaving the house, and the state that Freed was in right then, she would have questions.

He couldn't promise that he would have the wherewithal to come up with some excuse that would be believable for her.

His hand trembled while reaching for the knob to let the demon king leave, but he couldn't get his fingers to wrap around the cool metal. His vision wavered slightly while he thought of his mother showing up, the questions she would ask, the answers he would have to come up with on the fly.

He had no plan. He had nothing.

Freed's hand moved to grasp the knob again, and he missed. His breath hitched and caught in his chest. This was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to see Mard again. Not in his home. Part of him wanted to turn and beg Mard to take him, right there in the foyer, consequences be damned. But he couldn't. There could be nothing more between them. Just as he's told Laxus, it was a single night spent together. Nothing more.

The doorbell rang, and Freed froze.

"Is this the company you were expecting?"

No. This couldn't be happening.

Still, he nodded. "I-I should get that." He wasn't ready for this. Not in the slightest. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Not the churning in his belly from the gentle scent of roses wafting off of Mard, or the memories of soft strands of violet brushing across his quivering stomach.

He breathed a little easier when Mard Geer stepped back to an appropriate distance, and his fingers finally found purchase on the knob. As Freed opened the door, he was greeted by the widely smiling face of his mother's driver, Braden. His young, dimpled cheeks and bright green eyes flashed with recognition.

"Afternoon, Mr. Justine," Braden said, tipping his grey chauffeur's cap and revealing neatly slicked blond hair. Why Freed's mother had decided that his uniform needed to be tight black slacks and a pale blue shirt that hugged his lean body, he hadn't a clue. Freed's older sister, Claire, claimed that it was because their mother wanted the eye candy. The second eldest, Amelie, said it was a wonderful fashion statement - though he and Claire both suspected that she just preferred ogling Braden. His eldest sister, Jeanne, said that Braden was only working for their mother so he could fuck her in the backseat.

"Hello, Braden," Freed said, still trying to force himself back into his normally composed demeanor. He could feel Mard's black eyes boring into the side of his head where he was hidden behind the door. "How do you fare?"

"Oh, just fine," Braden laughed. "The Madame is ready for you."

Freed nodded. "Very well. I look forward to her visit."

It was the same conversation every time with Braden. A carefully crafted script that he knew had to be followed. If he said one thing wrong, Braden would tell his mother, and then she would badger him until he confessed.

Braden tipped his hat once more and turned to walk down the steps and into the drive where he'd parked the sleek black SE vehicle. Freed closed the door - careful not to slam it - and rounded on Mard. "You-"

"I will take my leave," Mard said again. Freed opened the door for him, watching the regal set to his shoulders as he stepped through and paused on the doorstep. "Do contact me if you find that button."

"How?" Freed asked.

Mard smirked over his shoulder. "Lacrima, of course," he said. "I am a demon, not a corpse."

Freed flushed and watched Mard Geer walk down the steps and into the drive, past his mother's car just as she stepped out. Mard Geer didn't stop to talk with her, just continued on his way to the sidewalk. He turned left and out of sight, heading away from the guild.

Freed took a deep, calming breath, and plastered on the expected non-smile as Braden carried his mother's bags up the drive and deposited them on the porch. She walked at a slower pace - not that he blamed her, considering the three-inch red heels she was wearing to contrast her navy blue pencil skirt and white blouse - and wasted no time once she stepped onto the porch.

"Who was that man leaving your home, Freed?" she asked.

He waited while she removed her sunglasses, looking into the bright turquoise eyes he'd inherited. "Mister Traitorous," he said. "He is an author well-versed in languages."

She raised a thin, pencilled brow.

"There is a dead language that I have been studying," Freed continued. Maybe if he simply skirted around the truth, he could get through this. "He is an expert in it, so I consulted him to learn more about the phonological aspects that do not translate in text." Maybe if he talked enough about his magic, she would grow bored and change the subject. "For instance, I had no idea that it had so many variations based entirely on the pitch of a glottalic egressive."

"And that… man, told you this?"

"Indeed," Freed said, then bowed his head. He could tell she was bored. Perfect. "But please, do come inside, Mother. I have prepared the guest room for your arrival."

The small huff of air that escaped her would have gone unnoticed by most. But not Freed. He cringed, realizing that he'd called it a guest _room_ and not a guest _suite_.

The next several days were going to be dreadful.

* * *

As Freed sat across the table from his mother and quietly dined on the roast duck that he'd cooked, he really took in her appearance. Her cheeks seemed a little thinner, and the few wrinkles that she hadn't had surgery to remove were a touch more noticeable. Her makeup was impeccable as always - a soft, natural look that highlighted the beauty of her genetics - and her long green hair was pinned into a complicated, professional updo.

Her nails were just as pristine as always. There wasn't really anything out of place. Maybe he was just noticing for the first time, how she'd aged. Jeanne did like to tease him over being the reason their mother had plastic surgery - if he hadn't disappeared on Tenrou, she wouldn't have wanted to make sure she looked the same after realizing he hadn't aged in seven years.

"Have you heard the news?" she asked, breaking the silence that had reigned for the past fifteen minutes. He wasn't going to speak unless spoken to; he hadn't forgotten that rule.

"Which news?" he asked, dabbing at his lips. He took a small sip of his wine - a fine vintage of Bordeaux that his mother favored.

"Your sister has accepted the Duke of Morrington's proposal," she said, flashing the asparagus spears on her plate a proud smile. "Amelie is such a wonder."

Freed nearly choked. Amelie? She'd actually accepted a proposal? "Truly."

"Indeed," she said. His mother set her fork on her plate and sipped at her wine. "Jeanne is hopeless - far too crass for any man to be willing to put up with - and by this point, she's well on her way to becoming a spinster."

Well, it wasn't his eldest sister's fault, really, that she'd done everything in her power to rebel against their parents. Or the four stepfathers who took their father's place after he died. She'd honestly gotten much worse in recent years, but Freed did prefer spending time with her over the other two. She was so much easier to talk to. She didn't hold back for fear of offending someone.

"And my sweet little Claire has been married since-"

"Since she was sixteen," he finished. "I know, Mother."

She flashed him a quick, disapproving glance before returning to her serene smile. Who was he to burst her bubble and tell her that Claire was miserable in her marriage? She had been miserable since her wedding day, but it was expected of her. She followed in their mother's footsteps and went through with an arranged marriage.

At least Amelie actually _liked_ the Duke of Morrington. And from what Freed knew of him, the man was stable, dependable, and far less interested in their family name than most of Amelie's other suitors. His own name held status just a touch higher than theirs so, if anything, the Duke was "settling" with this marriage. As the gentry would see it, he was most likely accepting that Amelie was his best shot at marriage at his "old" age of 33, even though she was two years older than him.

"Freed, do tell me you are done dallying with that mage," she sighed, swirling her wine and watching the way her long, slim fingers curved elegantly around the stem. "You deserve so much better."

"About that," he said, clearing his throat. "Evergreen and I are not together, Mother."

"Oh, what wonderful news!" she laughed. "I always said she was of no significance. But you boys do need time to go out and sow those oats, as they say."

He very nearly retched at the prospect of being naked with Evergreen.

"Amelie's engagement ball will be utterly extravagant, and you must attend," she said.

"Well-"

"This is not optional." Her smile faded until her lips pinched into that disdained frown he dreaded. "You will support your sister, Freed. She may not have another chance at this, and you would do well to remember that, as the only male in our family, you are seen as the shining example of the Justine line's pedigree." She set down her wine glass and reached across the table to rest her hand over his.

Freed flinched as her perfectly manicured nails dug trenches into his guild mark.

"At that ball, you will prove to everyone with eyes that those rumors about you are false."

"What rumors?" he asked. His eyes widened as he watched her break the skin on the top of his hand. "M-Mother?"

"Filthy rumors, Freed. No son of mine would ever do something so vile."

"I don't understand." He made a point of staying out of the nobles' circles. He stayed as far from high society as he could. Unless his sisters happened to tell him some bit of gossip during one of their calls, he was left out of the loop. He rather preferred it that way. But to hear that there was gossip about him, when he'd done everything in his power to keep away from that life… "What has been said about me?"

She let go of his hand and wiped her fingers on her napkin. He watched as the cream fabric was spotted with his blood as it swiped over her nails. "I told you how I felt about you leaving to join this… _guild_ of yours," she said, reaching for her half-empty wine glass. She paused to take a sip. "Still, I allowed you to go off and have your adventures. But there has been talk for some time that your devotion to the team you are a part of is not entirely pure."

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning. He secretly took his own napkin and wrapped it around his hand beneath the table.

"Some circles have whispered that your relationship with that woman was a ruse, to cover up the intense devotion you have for someone else."

His frown deepened as he thought. His faux relationship with Evergreen was only for his mother's benefit.

"I could understand your Jeanne doing something like this, but you are not like her," she said. Their eyes met, and he fought to hold her heavy gaze. "So you will go to Amelie's engagement ball, and you will prove, once and for all, that there is no truth in those claims."

"What claims?" he asked again. "Mother, I do not underst-"

"Enough," she said, gulping down the last of her wine. "This conversation has ruined my appetite. I will retire for the night, Freed. Do make sure to do something with the rest of that duck." She stood from her seat before he could move to pull out her chair. "It was dreadfully dry."

He sat there in silence while watching her round the corner, listening as she made her way up the stairs to the guest room. He listened for the soft click of her door closing, then turned his attention back to the meal he'd cooked. He'd followed the recipe to the letter, and had made this for his team several times. They'd never complained about it being too dry.

Freed bit his lips and left the dining room, then went to his study. There was only an archway separating it from the hallway, but that didn't matter. His mother wouldn't leave her room for the rest of the night.

He took a seat in his reading chair and grabbed his lacrima from the table, ignoring the book he'd been reading just that afternoon. If he couldn't get answers from his mother, then one of his sisters would be able to tell him what was going on.

Amelie was too proper to be willing to talk about it. She didn't like spreading rumors. Claire was prone to spilling secrets, and he knew that she would be willing to tell him, but he couldn't call her at dinner time. It was horribly rude.

Jeanne, though…

He let out a heavy breath and called his eldest sister. While waiting for the call to connect, his gaze shifted toward the fireplace. With a couple runes, he was able to light the logs and feel the gentle warmth filling his study. Raucous laughter from the orb in his hand drew his attention back to the lacrima, and a genuine, loving smile curled his lips as he saw his sister's neon green pixie cut hair and dark blue eyes.

" _Hey, it's my string bean!"_

He chuckled softly at that. "Hello, Jeanne," he said. "How do you fare?"

" _Hun, Imma need you to chill on the proper talk,"_ she laughed. _"It's like rubbing my eardrums with wool."_

"Hilarious," he said, still smiling.

" _What can I do for you? You never call me outta the blue."_

His head tilted slightly when he noticed a barstool fly across the room behind her. "Where are you?"

" _Well, I was at this real swanky place with some friends, but we got bored and figured we'd ditch it. Wait, what town are we in?"_

Freed blinked in surprise when he saw a person being thrown in the other direction in the background.

" _Bean, isn't your guild in Magnolia?"_

"Yes…?"

She turned to look at someone over her shoulder, yelling something that he couldn't quite make out. And suddenly, a frighteningly familiar face filled the screen, with his tongue sticking out and his helmet missing. _"Freed, baby, how'd you get my girl's number?"_

No… Oh, good heavens, no… "Jeanne, you're not…"

She smiled at him, and his jaw dropped when he saw the soft flush to her cheeks while glancing at Bickslow.

" _Come on down to the guild, man,"_ Bickslow cackled. _"Jackal started a fight with Gajeel. Shit's getting wild!"_

"Bickslow, my mother is visiting, remember?" he sighed, watching as both his teammate and sister went completely still. "And get your arm off of my sister."

" _S-Sister?"_ Bickslow chuckled nervously.

Jeanne scowled at him. _"Freed, I swear, I will come down there and rip out your fucking hair. Don't ruin this."_

His lips pursed, but he nodded nonetheless. Maybe he was being too harsh. Bickslow was a loveable man. He was caring - if not just a little odd - and if there was anyone who could keep up with Jeanne, it was him. She was just as insane sometimes.

"My apologies," he said after a moment. "I have had a… trying day."

" _With her royal cuntiness there, I'd say that's an understatement,"_ Jeanne snorted. _"Come down here and take a load off. I'm guessing she's stormed up to her room by now."_

"Well, there wasn't _storming_ , per se…"

" _Come down and see your big sis,"_ she laughed. She gasped a moment later, and Freed watched her smack Bickslow's chest repeatedly to get his attention from his babies. _"Whoa, did you see that? That guy just knocked Jackal through the wall without even looking!"_

" _That's Mard Geer,"_ Bickslow said. _"He's the guild master for Jackal's guild."_

" _He didn't even look away from his book!"_ Jeanne shouted. _"Oh my god, it's a hot Freed!"_

"Please do stop," Freed groaned. He couldn't just leave his mother at his house, all alone.

" _Freed, you've gotta come see. Seriously, I bet you'd be all over-"_ Bickslow's hand clamped down over Jeanne's mouth, and Freed watched as he whispered something in her ear. Her blue eyes widened, then she nodded quickly and leaned closer to the lacrima. _"Just come down and see me, dealsies? I know you wanna talk to me, so we'll talk. Promise."_

He wanted to tell her no, but the last time he'd seen Jeanne had been nearly eight months ago. He really did want to catch up with her, to see how things were going for her now that she'd been living away from their mother for so long. He wanted to make sure she was alright, even if she was of the firm belief that she didn't need her baby brother to protect her.

It didn't hurt that Mard Geer was apparently sitting somewhere in the guild, where his sister was, and that Freed would be able to secretly steal a glance or two of the beautiful creature who'd enraptured him so completely. Even if Freed couldn't have Mard Geer to himself, he could dream.

That had to be enough.

"Alright," he said, shaking his head and laughing as he looked at Jeanne's bright, smiling face. "I will be there shortly." He disconnected the call and made for the foyer to put on his boots and maroon jacket. He attached his sword to his belt, adjusted his cravat, then paused when a glinting light coming from his study caught his attention.

Freed turned and made his way back into the study, then knelt on the floor in front of his reading chair. He looked beneath it, and smiled when he found a silver button sitting on the floor. He hadn't a clue how it had gotten here, when he'd made sure to clean his house from top to bottom several times since Mard had spent the night. But there it was.

Freed tucked the button into his coat pocket, and stood once again. He wrote the runes to teleport himself to the outside of the guild, and didn't notice his mother standing on the stairs with her arms crossed, her turquoise eyes narrowed in anger as she watched his body flutter away in a wash of purple text.

"It can't be true. I will not let it," she spat.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the last chapter! I've had tons of ideas concerning the future of the story now that I've written the second chapter. I'm refusing to let myself plot anything out for this one, though. I want to force myself to write it without knowing exactly where it's going.**

 **Thanks to Mad's enabling, there has been a teeny-tiny bit of plotting on this story. Not much, but some character motivations have been fleshed out more.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3**_

* * *

By the time he'd reached the guild, Freed already felt more relaxed. The atmosphere in his house with his mother was oppressive. Even when he'd lived back in his parents' mansion, he'd felt it weighing down in the wide corridors. She just seemed to have that effect anywhere she went, he supposed.

But walking through the doors, and finding that the brawl had died down, that beer flowed freely as pints were passed all around the guild, set him at ease. His guild mates laughed and yelled and rough-housed to their heart's content. Even if their own home lives were less than stellar, they were still able to smile while sitting in the Fairy Tail guild hall.

This was what he'd needed. His sister had been right.

Freed gave a minute nod to Levy as he passed, noticing that she'd taken him up on his recommendation for a newer series of novels that inverted the roles of fairy tale princesses, and had them saving the men from certain doom. He'd definitely appreciated the author's take on the stories, and had found himself enthralled in the text. And once he'd finished, he'd been sure to tell Levy about it.

As he moved through the center of the guild, he found his sister's neon green hair easily. He hadn't known she'd dyed it again. Last time he'd seen her, Jeanne's hair had been silver. Still, it was just like her to do something like that. Their mother had already thrown quite the fit when Jeanne had shaved her head from the nape of her neck up to her temples. Now it was cut short and spiked in every direction.

He paused at the bar. He loved his eldest sister, but she could be a handful in her own right. It was easier to talk to her than any of the women in his family, but he still needed to be prepared. And considering he'd just spent the day with his mother… "Kinana, could I trouble you for a round of drinks for the Raijinshuu's table?"

She looked up from the notepad in her hand and smiled widely at him. He didn't miss the gentle flush to her cheeks when she realized it was Freed. "Sure. I just brought them some a few minutes ago, though."

He chuckled. Knowing Jeanne, she was nearly finished. "Just to be on the safe side," he said. "And add a pint for me as well."

She blinked in surprise at that, but didn't ask questions. He never ordered alcohol for himself here. Mostly because the guild didn't carry what he preferred drinking, but also because Freed needed to ensure that he was at his best at all times.

That night, he didn't care. He wanted to be able to relax. And while alcohol wasn't his first choice, it was all he had available.

It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to search the guild for Mard Geer while waiting. That was his first choice. A night with that demon would do him wonders. After their first foray together, he'd been floating for weeks. He'd been able to focus more than ever before, had smiled easily when Bickslow pulled one prank or another on someone. Freed was sure someone had noticed that slight change in his demeanor, but he didn't care. Being with Mard for just a night had been so freeing.

He'd let go of the stressors in his life, the worries over whether someone would approve of his choices… the constant concern over the darkness that coiled around his soul. Every part of him had been accepted, cherished, brought to heel.

What he wouldn't give to feel like that once again.

Kinana set the tray on the bar in front of him, breaking Freed from his reverie. He thanked her quietly and picked up the tray, then paused when she gently touched his sleeve. "Is there something you need, Kinana?"

Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, and she glanced away. "You seem stressed," she said gently. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," he sighed, forcing his shoulders to relax. He gave her a careful smile. "Thank you for your concern." With that, he turned and walked around the group of tables between the bar and the Raijinshuu. He set the tray down in the center of the table, pulled his pint off, and took a large swig while sitting down next to Evergreen.

"String Bean!" Jeanne shrieked. She jumped up from her seat and lunged across the table to hug him, uncaring of whether he spilled his drink.

"So he does have a sister," Evergreen snickered.

Jeanne sat back and scooted closer to Bickslow, grinning as his arm wound around her waist. She reached for her new drink along with everyone else, and then her eyes narrowed when she saw that Freed was gulping down his drink, not coming up for air.

"Damn, that bad?" Laxus asked. He raised a hand to signal Mira, calling for another round for the table. After seeing Freed slam the cup down and reach for Evergreen's untouched fresh glass, he cringed and told her to make it double.

"She hated the duck," Freed said.

"Your roast duck with the asparagus?" Evergreen gasped. "That's the best dish you make!"

"So yummy!" Bickslow's babies crooned while twirling around Freed's head.

"It was _too dry_ ," he muttered. He chugged Evergreen's beer, then sighed as Mira set two more pints in front of him. "Please do keep them coming, Mira."

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

"That old hag that birthed him is in town," Bickslow said, scowling across the table.

"Oh dear… You've got it, Freed. On the house, okay?"

He nodded and tipped back the pint. Not too many people outside of his team knew about his mother's less than pleasant tendencies, but Mira Jane was one of them. Mostly because she'd been running around the guild with orders and had overheard plenty of conversations about his mother and her visits. He still didn't like the fact that she'd found him curled up in a storage closet one day, panicking over his mother's impending visit, and had to go find Laxus just to get Freed out without being seen.

"I don't know why you put up with her shit, man," Bickslow said, taking a swig of his own beer. "She's been a total bitch ever since she started visiting you."

"She cares," Freed said.

Jeanne snorted. "Yeah right, Bean." He frowned over at her, finding her dark blue eyes sparkling with intensity. She rested her delicate chin on her hand and waved her mug in the air with the other as she spoke. "Francine Justine wants everyone to believe she gives a shit, when she doesn't. She wants them to see her visiting her son who disappeared for seven years, and she wants them to believe that she's a loving, doting mother."

"Why anyone would believe that is beyond me," Evergreen huffed. "Unless they've never had to have a conversation with her."

"Precisely," Jeanne laughed, clinking her mug against Evergreen's. She turned her attention back to Freed. "Bean, you've always been the youngest, and now that I'm 14 whole years older than you, it's time to listen to my advice."

He nodded and met her gaze squarely.

"Stop letting her walk all over you."

He wanted to laugh at that. He couldn't simply tell their mother that she needed to be nicer. She was who she was. And as his mother, she was owed a certain level of respect that-

"I can already see the gears working, telling you that you can't do this and you can't do that," Jeanne said. She set her mug down and reached out for Freed's hand, and he flinched when her fingers brushed over the cuts his mother's nails had cut into his guild mark. Jeanne scowled and looked down, her eyes suddenly burning while nearly dragging him across the table. "Freed, what did she do?"

"She just grabbed my hand," he said quickly, yanking it away from her. "I have endured worse injuries, Jeanne."

"From her?!"

"No," he said quickly, "Working as a mage. This is nothing."

"She comes to your house, makes you deal with her shitty attitude," Laxus said, scowling over at Freed. "Talks shit about you and the people you hang out with, and then pulls this… and you're still defending her?"

"Laxus," he sighed. He couldn't tell them the truth, the real reason he listened to his mother, no matter what. "It is not like that. She was just upset."

"About what?" Bickslow asked. "The duck that her bullshit _refined_ palate says was too dry?"

Freed sunk back in his seat and took another large gulp of his beer. The taste left something to be desired, but it was better than nothing. At least he could already feel the soft goosebumps left on his skin from drinking it so quickly. Soon, none of this would bother him. He frowned at the table then. "Jeanne, I know you keep up with the noble gossip."

"Of course," she said with a scoff. "Those pricks are always talking shit about someone. It's easier to stir the pot if I know who to mess with."

Finally, he looked at her fully. Her bone structure was similar to his, just barely more feminine around the line of her jaw. They had the same lips and eyebrows, though. Her eyes were so much more expressive than his. She'd definitely aged well in the time he'd been gone. There were no wrinkles around her eyes, but she did have the faintest laugh lines on her cheeks now. And her skin was a touch more tanned than he remembered - probably from her trip down to Minstrel with their mother (that had left Jeanne a laughing mess, and their mother wholly hysterical at the way she behaved).

"Mother says there are rumors about me," he finally said. "She wouldn't tell me what they were, but I assume she wants me to dissuade those at Amelie's engagement ball."

"Wait, Amelie's engaged?" Jeanne asked, her eyes widening in horror. "Not Morrington…"

"Yes," Freed said.

"That guy's a total skeez!"

He wanted to know more about what was wrong with Amelie's fiancé, in Jeanne's opinion, but that could wait. Freed needed to know what was being said about himself. "Jeanne, are they talking about me?"

"Yeah," she said absently. "But it's nothing new. They've been saying it for a while."

"Saying what?" Evergreen asked, leaning forward.

"Freed's gay," Jeanne said with a shrug. "They say he claimed to be with you, but he's really using that as a cover to sleep with Laxus."

"Ugh, gross!" Laxus bellowed. Jeanne scowled over at him, but stopped her instant tirade when Bickslow laughed loudly.

"No worries, baby," Bickslow said. "Laxus was the first one Freed told. There are no feelings there."

She turned to Freed then, and he nodded. "Laxus is my best friend, Jeanne." He chuckled and glanced at the blond Lightning Slayer. "Those rumors are nothing new, to be honest. I admire him, yes, but we are only friends. And he knows that I don't harbor any sexual or romantic feelings for him."

She nodded, but didn't seem entirely pleased with Laxus anymore. "Well, if Francine's making you go to the _grand ball_ , then she's probably got something planned to prove to everyone that you're not gay."

"I really don't see what the big deal is," Bickslow said. He nodded to Kinana as she came to clear away the empty mugs and set a new tray on the table. "So what if Freed's gay? He's not hurting anyone."

Freed was sure he was the only one to notice how Kinana hesitated for a second before setting a trembling mug on the table. He said nothing. He was positive that she harbored feelings for him of some fashion, but he hadn't had the heart to tell her the truth. It wasn't as though he talked about his sexuality all that often. There was no point.

"Yeah, but according to _high society_ ," Jeanne said, emphasizing the words with an over-the-top accent and gritting her teeth, "Homosexuality in men is depraved and sinful and impure. Two lesbos can go at it all they want, and no one bats an eye, but if they confirm that Freed's into dudes, then it looks bad for the family."

"That makes no fucking sense," Laxus growled.

"That is just the way it works," Freed sighed. "It has always been that way."

"Doesn't make it right," Laxus countered.

"Freed, you should just come out at the ball," Jeanne said. "Really stick it to Francine."

"I could never ruin Amelie's engagement like that," he said.

"Forget that," she snorted. He watched as she set her elbows on the table and leaned forward, only then noticing the vibrant tattoo spiralling around her left bicep - a simple parchment with the word _Freedom_ written inside in an elegant script, with seven roses around it, one for every color of the rainbow. She smiled a little more gently when she noticed where his attention had been drawn to. "For my little string bean."

"M-Me?"

Jeanne laughed and reached across the table to rest her hand over his once more. "We used to be seven years apart, but you're the only one who gets me, Bean. And I've tried my best to help you along the way. You're my baby brother."

His cheeks flushed when her hand rested on his cheek instead, but he couldn't look away from the tattoo on her arm.

"I can't always be there to help you, and now that you're finding your own way as a mage, I'm not much of a protector," she said. He shivered when her thumb brushed beneath his right eye. His bangs didn't move, and no one saw the different coloration, but it worried him. What would she say if she did see it? "But I can still show you and the whole world that I support you. Because one day, I want you to find what you're named after."

"Freedom?" he breathed.

She smiled a little wider. "Exactly. In whatever sense of the word fits. I want you to be yourself, and not worry so much about all the bullshit. Live _your_ life, Bean, not the one people want you to live."

He reached up to hold her hand, then turned and pressed a tender kiss to her palm. "Thank you, Jeanne," he whispered. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did need to start living life for himself, instead of forcing himself to fit into the mold others chose for him. That wouldn't change the person he was, or the dynamic of his team. He was more like himself with them than anyone.

The darkness within pulsed only slightly, just enough to catch his breath in his throat and for his gaze to shoot across the guild hall, to find Mard Geer still sitting at a table beside Lucy. He'd made a point of not looking for the Demon King, and yet… Freed knew exactly where he was.

Jeanne tapped his cheek and sat back, pulling his attention from the alluring sight of Mard Geer reading a book.

"You've had to deal with that crusty crone all day," she said, "So you need something stronger."

"Hell yeah!" Bickslow cackled. He leaned back and called out to Mira. "Get us some rum, Mira. We're getting Freed fucked up tonight!"

"O-Oh, I shouldn't," Freed chuckled.

He was surprised when Laxus' arm wrapped around his shoulders and Evergreen's wrapped around his waist. "You need to cut loose," Evergreen laughed. "And we'll drink with you."

"Damn right, we will," Laxus said, smirking down at him. "Drink away and forget all about the bullshit." Freed gulped and looked more uneasy than before when Mira brought five shot glasses and three bottles of clear rum to the table. Laxus leaned down to whisper in Freed's ear while the others worked together to get their first round poured. "We'll keep an eye on you, man. I won't let you do anything stupid. Or _anyone_."

"L-Laxus," he gasped. His cheeks flamed when Laxus' lips brushed across his ear.

"I saw you look at him. If you want him, then go for it, but if not… Tell me now while you're still mostly sober, and I'll keep you away."

He knew. Laxus _knew_ what Freed had been trying to deny himself. Nothing would come of it anyway, but… Mard Geer _had_ showed up at his house earlier that day, and he _had_ seemed just a tad miffed over Freed turning him down. Did that mean that Mard wanted more? Did he want the same thing as Freed?

Was there a chance - however small - that Freed would be able to have the love story he dreamed of? Would he truly be able to have long nights together with a man, quiet moments in the morning while they talked and kissed and smiled at one another? Could he one day hope to hold someone's hand in public?

Or would this just be another night full of carnal desire, with both of them writhing and biting at one another until they were sated?

The thought wasn't entirely unappealing, and it had been months since Freed had been with anyone. Maybe, if it was just a physical relationship, he could cope. He could feel relaxed, cherished for a time. And that could be enough.

"Tell me before you take a shot," Laxus said, drawing back to meet Freed's gaze.

"If he pursues," he whispered almost silently. It was just loud enough for Laxus to hear over the din of the guild. He took a shaky breath, then forced himself to speak. To admit the truth. "I won't deny him."

Laxus squeezed his shoulder and smirked. "I hear you loud and clear," he said. "I don't fucking get it, but I hear you."

He released Freed and everyone grabbed a shot glass. Freed was the first to tip back his glass, mere milliseconds before the rest of the table's inhabitants. The rum burned like acid down his throat, and he coughed as the burn coated the inside of his mouth after he'd swallowed.

"Fuck, chaser," he sputtered. The others laughed as they all tapped their shot glasses on the table twice.

"No chasing tonight!" Jeanne cackled. "Bean, I'm so proud of that dirty mouth!"

Freed laughed as well. "Do not get used to it," he said. Laxus poured the next round and Freed snatched up his glass once it was filled. He was going to enjoy himself tonight. He wasn't going to worry anymore. For one night, he would be free. Free to do as he chose, free to laugh and smile with those he held dear. "A toast!"

Bickslow groaned. "Man, c'mon!"

"Just one," Freed said. "A toast to nakama, and having the best team anyone could ask for."

"To nakama!" the others at the table shouted.

"To nakama!" bellowed the rest of the guild. Everyone in the building took a gulp of their drinks, then returned to what they were doing. Freed's group all tossed back their shots, tapped the table twice with their glasses, then laughed when Evergreen was left coughing at the aftertaste.

Across the guild, Mard Geer's eyes trailed across the page, seemingly engrossed in the book in his hands. A slow smile twitched across his lips when he glanced toward the Raijinshuu's table and saw the inebriated, flushed cheeks of the Rune mage who'd turned him down earlier.

* * *

As the night wore on, Mard Geer found it easier to observe the little human he desired. The fairies grew more intoxicated, less aware of their surroundings and less cognizant of the fact that there were two demons among them.

Well, one demon, considering Jackal had stolen Lucy away some time back to properly fellate her in a bathroom. How unsanitary.

Still, it left Mard ample opportunity to watch Freed drinking with the rest of his team, and that strange young woman who'd attached herself to Bickslow's side. A quick peek inside her head revealed that she was a sibling of Freed's. Interesting. Her skin-tight jeans and too-small shirt would lead anyone to believe they hadn't come from the same household. Unless Freed was the outlier in his family.

Nevertheless, he watched. And he waited.

Just feeling the dark presence trapped within the Rune mage's body as he'd walked up the steps of the guild hours before had put Mard Geer on edge. He'd wanted to be buried in that lithe body for the rest of the day. It had been months, not that he'd realized it right away. To him, it had been mere hours since he'd last been in bed with Freed. But Jackal had been the one to point out the time difference, and that mongrel had been the one to inform Mard Geer that they had to consciously think about the passage of time, unlike humans. Being immortal meant he viewed time differently. What was a decade when he'd been alive for centuries? What was a month or hour or minute when he would live for another millennia, at the least?

Humans were aware of every passing moment, because of how limited their lifespans were. Which meant that Freed had to have been fully aware of those long months (for a human) that Mard Geer felt were nothing more than a blink of his eyes.

Was that why he'd been turned away? Because Freed had moved on?

Based on the sly glances sent his way in the last hour alone, Mard was hard-pressed to believe that was true.

Was that longing, he sensed? Just as quickly as the sensation passed over him, making the hair at the nape of his neck tingle with anticipation, Freed looked away. He took another shot of clear alcohol. He laughed louder than before and loosened his cravat, then stuffed it into an inner pocket in his jacket.

"Sing the fox!" Bickslow shouted, the sound of his voice clearly ringing across the guild. A few fairies lowered their own voices and turned their attention to the Raijinshuu's table. "Dude, sing it!"

Freed shook his head and laughed again. "I refuse!"

Mard Geer listened a little more closely while Bickslow informed Freed's sister that the Rune mage had performed a song for a group of kids at an orphanage, and they'd all lost their minds over it. It had been for a job, but none of his teammates had known that Freed would be able to accomplish the task, as they'd all been floundering for ideas.

And now he wanted Freed to perform the same song.

"I don't have a mandolin!" Freed laughed. Mard Geer blinked in surprise. Really? He needed an instrument as well?

"We have one right here," Mira called out, lifting the polished instrument from behind the bar. What an odd place to keep something like that.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Freed cackled. He truly cackled.

Mard Geer shut his book and focused more intently on the Rune mage. What an odd sight to see. Even when they'd been in bed together, he hadn't seen Freed this carefree. No, Mard Geer had brought out the darkness in him, forced him to give in to the demon within. It had been a different sort of freedom for him - letting go of his whole world and letting everything revolve around the pleasure he could get from Mard Geer, and the pleasure he could give in return.

" _We can't get him to do this now unless he's totally shitfaced,"_ Bickslow told Freed's sister.

Mard was further surprised when Freed clambered onto the table and happily accepted another shot of rum from Laxus. Mira handed him the mandolin, and he strummed the strings several times to make sure it was in tune.

"Gather 'round," Freed laughed, holding his hands out to his sides. "For now I will tell you the story of the fox and the town."

The Raijinshuu grinned up at him, and several other fairies moved closer to see what would happen. Freed set his fingers in place, and started strumming quickly, the chords ringing from the instrument sounding more like a folk song than Mard would have expected.

And when he heard the Rune mage begin to sing instead of talk for the story, Mard Geer found himself entirely enraptured.

 _The Fox went out on a chilly night  
He prayed for the moon to give him light  
For he'd many a mile to go that night  
Before he reached the town-o, town-o, town-o  
He'd many a mile to go that night before he reached the town-o_

He'd found an angel. Freed's voice was so clear, so precise. Mard watched as he grinned down at his sister, and the mages at his table started clapping to the beat.

 _He ran till he came to the farmer's pen  
The ducks and the geese were kept therein  
He said "a couple of you are gonna grease my chin,  
Before I leave this town-o"  
Town-o, town-o  
Said a couple of you are gonna grease my chin, before i leave this town-o_

The speed that Freed's fingers moved during the brief instrumental had Mard Geer listening closer, just a tad breathless. He could so clearly recall those thin fingers touching him the last time they'd been in Freed's bedroom. He didn't even mind the couple missed notes - most likely due to Freed's inebriated state.

Sweet mother of Zeref, he wanted his little human even more.

 _He grabbed the great goose by the neck  
And he threw a duck across his back  
And he didn't mind the quack quack  
And the legs all dangling down-o  
Down-o down-o  
He didn't mind the quack quack  
And the legs all dangling down-o_

Mard had to fight not to laugh over the mental image. Not only of the story that Freed told, but of him singing this to children. It did seem a little morbid, from what he'd learned about human customs, for their spawn to hear. Then again, maybe that was the point. And the song itself was so upbeat, that it seemed perfectly appropriate until one heard the lyrics.

The rest of the song passed in a blur as Mard let himself get lost in Freed's voice and the way he strummed the instrument. His guildmates joined in singing, off-key and raucous on the repeated _town-o_. They clapped along to the beat, some stomped their feet instead so they could continue drinking, and he barely noticed in the corner of his eye that several had started to sway along to the music.

But Freed. He was heavenly, standing on that table, grinning as he sang. Such a playful side to him, and Mard Geer hadn't known about it. This was so far removed from the well-to-do gentleman he presented himself to be.

' _Does he see me? Does he care? Does it matter? This is fun… I haven't had fun in such a long time…'_

The sudden thoughts from the grinning mage as he finished the song speared through Mard's head with a sharpness he hadn't expected. Was that truly how Freed felt? Did he not consider their time together fun? Mard knew he enjoyed it, that had been obvious based on his pleasured howls and how he'd trembled in Mard's arms while in the throes of passion.

But of course Mard saw him. It was hard not to notice him. Did he care? In what sense did Freed mean? Hopefully nothing too intimate. That wasn't Mard's forte. He cared enough to want Freed on his back and crying out in ecstasy, to feel himself buried to the hilt in the heat that clutched so tightly to him.

And to think, he'd been rebuffed earlier that day.

It had taken some quick thinking to pluck a button from his own jacket and toss it behind him into Freed's study when the Rune mage had answered the door. Of course he hadn't lost a button while visiting the last time. Freed had been very careful with his clothes. But Mard needed a reason to see him again. He needed Freed to think about him while searching for that button, then to plan the best course of action for having it returned.

There was much left to chance, doing it that way, but Mard enjoyed toying with his lovers.

He wondered how long it would take Freed to realize what he'd done. That it had been intentional. He was intelligent enough to figure it out, but Mard wondered whether he would mention it at all. Or would he know the truth and never bring it up, for fear of retribution?

Mard opened his book once more as the song ended and picked up reading where he'd left off.

There was still so much to learn about the human acting as a host for Gada's soul. Hopefully, this text would give him some insight into the matter. Because the demon he'd once cherished had been killed by Zeref 100 years ago, and that was what put Mard and the other demons under his thumb. And now that they were free from Zeref's curse - no longer feeling the need to bring about his demise, and no longer bound to his existence - Mard could explore the truth.

Was it possible for demons to inhabit human souls? How did something like that happen? And if so, did that mean that he would truly have another chance at the happiness he'd once claimed for himself, if he kept Freed around? Mard needed answers, and this book in his hands was sure to lead him on the right path, at the very least.

He needed to know why he was so drawn to the Rune mage, and whether he could allow himself to fall once more. He couldn't handle another century of that hollow existence he'd endured while working for Zeref. Now that he could feel again, he wanted to _keep_ feeling.

* * *

As the night wore on, Freed found that he'd lost all feeling in his face. Well, not _all_ the feeling. His lips tingled, and he kept biting them gently to make sure they were still there. His impromptu concert had prompted Mira to wheel the jukebox out from the back storage room and continue the folksy festivities. Fiddles sung in the air, paired with guitars and banjos and a male voice, then a female voice, until it all blurred together.

Jeanne dragged him from his seat at some point and drunkenly begged him to dance. And Freed happily obliged. He couldn't tell her no, not when he was so happy to have her around.

While they spun in circles and wove through the others who'd joined in the dancing, he grinned down at her. At least this was still the same. She was still several inches shorter than him. "Are you happy with Bickslow?" he asked.

As her brother, he had to know.

"Yeah," she giggled, twirling under his arm. "He's fun."

He wanted to ask whether that meant she would stay with Bickslow, but it wasn't his place. Freed didn't know whether this thing between them was serious, or if it was just starting out. He didn't want her to feel pressured to choose, because it could make her turn tail and run. "Well, you didn't hear this from me, but his tongue is the stuff of legends."

Jeanne's bright peal of laughter filled the air around them. "Do tell!"

Freed chuckled and pulled her close enough to whisper in her ear. "It is unnaturally long, my dear sister. And I've heard right from the source that he does… exercises to keep it dextrous."

"Now that's something I can get behind," she breathed. He watched her eyes spark with excitement as she glanced toward Bickslow who was walking right over to them.

"I would suggest getting in front of it," Freed laughed. He spun her away from himself, watching with a gentle smile as Bickslow caught Jeanne in his arms and pulled her into a melting kiss that visibly weakened her knees.

He was happy for her. Jeanne deserved all the happiness she could have while with Bickslow. And if that lasted, then he would support them fully. If it didn't - as Jeanne had a tendency to run away from anything remotely close to intimacy - then Freed knew Bickslow and Jeanne would both be able to weather it.

Unlike Freed. He needed that intimacy. He needed romance. He never got what he needed, but he could pretend. After years of pretending, he'd gotten used to it. He'd pretended to be the son his mother wanted. He'd pretended to be the detached lover previous men wanted, who didn't want a call back the next day. He'd acted as though he was untouchable for so long, when all he wanted was for someone to burrow under the façade and hold him tightly.

Once before, he'd felt something like that. Only briefly. Freed knew that he'd read into it more than he should have and yet...

Freed's gaze travelled of its own accord to that corner of the guild still holding the guildmaster of Tartaros. Mard Geer's attention was no longer held by a book, but by Freed. Their eyes locked, and that sultry midnight gaze beckoned him closer. Freed moved without knowing that he was walking at all, until he stood at the table and fell into the seat across from Mard.

"Are you enjoying yours-" Mard began.

"No verbal foreplay tonight." Freed grinned and leaned closer. "I know you left that button today."

"Do you?"

He nodded and fumbled with his jacket, then withdrew the button from his pocket. "If you wanted me, you should have said so. Maybe I could've avoided dealing with bullshit…"

Freed tossed the silver button onto the table. He leaned his head on his hand, revealing the burning purple of his right eye.

"And what bullshit might you have been subjected to?"

"It doesn't matter," Freed sighed. "I've been forgetting it tonight." He smirked then and bit his lips. The tingling feeling was still there, even in his nose. He felt so warm, but there was something else he wanted more than that. "You could help me forget even more."

"I thought you were done with verbal foreplay," Mard Geer chuckled.

"I just want it to be clear," he said. "I don't like the not knowing of things. But you… you can make me forget my name, my _everything_."

"Lead the way," Mard said. Freed was surprised by the sudden depth of his voice, but he reveled in the sudden vibration across the table and how it slithered along his burning skin.

"Not my house, I'm afraid," he said while stumbling to his feet. "She's _there_." He paused and waited for Mard Geer, then leaned against him once they stood next to one another. Freed's feet really didn't want to work with him all that well now that he'd stopped dancing and spinning so much. He didn't feel like he would be sick, but the room tilted precariously to the left. Luckily, Mard kept him upright.

"I doubt you will want to be teleported," Mard said as they stepped out of the guild.

"Teleportation is never good while intoxicated," Freed laughed softly. "And I am, as Bickslow thoroughly informed me, utterly shitfaced."

He hummed as Mard's arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him gently down the steps. Freed's head leaned on his shoulder, and he smiled. This feeling. This was what he wanted. What would it be like if this could happen when it wasn't past midnight, when people would be able to see them?

The thought was freeing, exhilarating.

How he ached to have that for himself. He'd seen other men do it in public. Just holding hands while they walked down the street. They were so happy together.

But Freed wasn't worrying that night. He was doing as he pleased, with whomever he so chose. His mother, the repercussions of defying her, everything was pointless. None of it mattered as his head turned and he nipped lightly at Mard's throat.

"I want you now," he breathed. "Right now."

He'd never been so bold before with a man, but it felt good to do it. He wanted it to be clear, just what he wanted. He was tired of playing games and not getting what he wanted. He was tired of being coy and accepting only what he was given.

Freed pulled himself from Mard's grasp and took both of those thin hands in his, then walked backward and grinned up at that painfully beautiful face.

"This is different," Mard said, smirking slightly.

"Do you enjoy it?" Freed asked, lifting one of Mard's hands to his lips and flicking his tongue over the tip. "Do you want me?"

"I would not be here otherwise."

Freed hummed and sucked two fingers deeply into his mouth, then thrust his tongue between them while pulling away once more. He knew what he wanted, and now was the time to take it. He'd never felt like this before, but he wanted to bask in it. He wanted everything he could get from Mard. That was why he turned and pulled Mard into an alley instead of asking where Mard would be staying that night.

It was the reason he had the gall to push Mard against a wall and bring their lips together in a searing kiss that he'd been desperate for all day. And Mard didn't disappoint. A low, rumbling growl vibrated in his chest as his arms wrapped around Freed's waist. He kneaded everything he could touch, and his tongue speared into Freed's mouth.

With just one kiss, Freed felt Mard taking control of him. Moving him, molding him into just what he wanted. Except he wanted this, too. Mard would make him into the best version of himself. He would peel back those layers and give Freed just what he'd been searching for. Mard pushed him back just enough for him to breathe, and Freed grinned while writing a quick set of runes in the air.

"Silence," he rasped. "Now no one will hear me scream."

He moaned loudly as Mard dragged him back into a harsh, biting kiss that turned his blood to fire.

* * *

Jeanne leaned heavily against Bickslow's side as he led her down the road to his apartment. She smiled at the sight of those odd little wooden totems whirling through the air around them. Such strange magic. But she'd always liked mages. She didn't have a lick of magical talent herself, even though her little brother had tried to teach her.

"Freed tried to teach me magic once," she slurred. "He was so cute."

"I can picture it," he chuckled. "He's always doing that."

"Take him, and make him adorable and ten years old, trying to show 17-year-old _me_ how to turn water into milk." Bickslow laughed that wild, alluring laugh of his that had drawn her to him earlier that night. "He never gave up on me."

"So I'm guessing it wasn't your thing?"

Jeanne scrunched her nose and shook her head. She giggled when she stumbled slightly on a loose cobblestone and Bickslow caught her around the waist. His hand was so warm against her flushed skin. She breathed in deeply to soak in the dark cologne he wore. Fuck, he smelled wonderful. Something like sandalwood, with hints of scents she couldn't pinpoint.

"No way," she said after a moment. "He's the mage in the family. But it was so cute. I remember him looking at me when I said I didn't wanna do it anymore, and how serious he was…"

"He's always serious," Bickslow laughed.

"Not back then. He smiled a lot more as a kid," she sighed. "But he was serious that time. He said, _'Sissy, I want you to learn so you can protect yourself when you leave home.'_ He knew, without me telling him, that I was leaving."

"Well, it doesn't surprise me that he'd pick up on it," Bickslow said. He brushed a hand through his hair, and she listened to the soft thunk of his helmet where he'd strapped it to his belt. "You left home young, huh?"

"He was younger when he left, but yeah. I had to get out of there. Sometimes, I wish I'd taken him with me." She shivered when his thumb brushed across her waist in a silent gesture of comfort. It was strange. She'd just met him, but he already knew to do things like that.

Jeanne wondered if Freed had talked about his sisters all that much to his team. If he told them much of anything aside from the stories about their mother. Did he tell Bickslow that she'd skipped out on her own engagement to Duke Morrington because he was a spoiled brat who cried at the drop of a hat? Or that she never stayed with a man for long?

Did Bickslow expect that out of her now?

She wasn't opposed to it. Things were easier if she wasn't tied down, and a whole lot more fun. She could be her own woman, with nothing to hold her back.

How different would things have been if she'd been the one to raise her little brother? Would he have still become the mage he was now?

They stepped in front of an alley and swift movement in the corner of her eye caught Jeanne's attention. Her feet stopped moving altogether and she downright stared at the sight of her younger brother pinning a man with dark hair to a wall, kissing him like their lives depended on it. She couldn't hear anything though, even as the man's hands roamed freely over Freed's chest and back, pulled him closer. Their bodies rubbed so lewdly together, but not a sound escaped them.

"What's up?" Bickslow asked. His gaze followed her line of sight and he snorted. "Oh my god…"

Her jaw dropped when they broke away from the intense kiss and she saw that it was Mard Geer - the man Bickslow had told her was actually a demon, and the guild master of Tartaros, the same group of demons who had nearly killed Freed and his team - and he had a hand in Freed's hair, that he was pushing Freed down to his knees right then.

Her blood ran cold at the sight of her brother sloppily, drunkenly easing the straining arousal in front of him, into his mouth. Mard Geer's head tipped forward and his lips pulled back in a snarl as he spoke words she couldn't hear.

He forced Freed's head to move faster, to bury his nose in the demon's crotch.

"I didn't need to know he could deepthroat," Bickslow muttered. "Jeanne, c'mon."

"He's being too rough," she said. She took a step toward the alley when Mard Geer's hand brushed through Freed's hair again and pulled his bangs back and away from his eyes. The sight of that darkness of his magic had her pausing. She knew not to get too close when he was like that. He'd told her that himself.

But then Bickslow was pulling her arm and Mard Geer's hands fell to his sides and his nails scraped against the wall while Freed swallowed him down faster than before. Her cheeks burned a bright red at the realization that he was doing this of his own accord.

"Jeanne, seriously, let's go," Bickslow said again. He pulled her past the alley and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to keep her moving. "If it makes you feel better, that's not the first time Freed's been with him."

"I-I don't know how that makes me feel."

"Laxus talked to him about it, and he said it was a one-time thing. But then… Well, you saw him when you mentioned Mard was at the guild." He chuckled and lightly squeezed her shoulders. "I think he's kinda _really_ into Mard."

"I don't know if that makes it better," she said. "I mean, he's a demon…"

Bickslow shrugged at that. "You saw Jackal, right?" She nodded and looked into his gentle crimson eyes. "He's banging Lucy. And when we were fighting against them, _he's_ the one who nearly killed her. She forgave him. It's what our guild does."

"You forgive people for hurting you, nearly killing you? Just like that?"

"Well, not exactly," he laughed. "Did Freed ever tell you about the time our team tried to take over the guild?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No." He hadn't told her about that at all. Had her little brother nearly become a villain?

Bickslow laughed loudly, leaning down to run his tongue along the shell of her ear. "I'll tell you about it over breakfast. Suffice to say, when you fuck up with someone in Fairy Tail, we're willing to forgive, as long as you prove you deserve another chance."

"... Did you just say, over breakfast?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him playfully. "How forward of you to assume I'll still be around for that."

His grin grew predatory as he nipped at her lips. "It's my goal to make you unable to move tonight and well into the morning."

"I-Is that so?"

Bickslow nodded. "I make a mean eggs benedict. You'll thank me when you get served breakfast in bed."

"And do you do this with every girl sullying your sheets?" she giggled.

"Only the extra crazy ones," he laughed. A tight knot in her chest eased slightly as his totems formed a line in front of them and he jumped onto them gracefully, holding his hand out for her. "Do you trust me?"

"Call me Jasmine, and I won't lick your taint," she snorted.

"Noted," he said with a devious smirk. Jeanne rolled her eyes and took his hand, and found herself clutching tightly to him as they flew into the air. "Glad to know that's on the table, baby." Jeanne laughed as he wagged his eyebrows at her and his tongue lolled from his mouth.

* * *

"She saw it all, Freed," Mard moaned, rolling his hips into Freed's waiting mouth. The answering hum that was cut off by him hitting the back of Freed's throat was wholly arousing.

In this state, not even his own sister seeing him being degraded like this could affect him. Freed had completely lost himself in this alley. All he cared about was the pleasure he could give Mard, and what he could take for himself.

So far, he'd taken no pleasure of his own. He only served.

Was that what he needed? What he'd been thinking about earlier when they'd made their way out of the guild? Had Freed needed to be used, broken down until he was nothing more than a hole for Mard Geer to fuck, then brought back from the edge of insanity before losing himself completely?

They wouldn't have time for Mard to get him into such a headspace. Not here in an alley where anyone could walk by. While Mard didn't particularly care if they were seen, it was clear that Freed (when in his right mind) did care about those things.

Freed's head tilted as he drew back, sucking the excess saliva from Mard's aching cock. The demon groaned loudly as those mismatched eyes opened to slits and glanced up at him. To be able to see his cheeks hollowing like this, nearly brought Mard to his knees. The sight itself was too much to handle. He couldn't take this. Not when Freed looked at him this way with tears in his eyes and spit dribbling down his chin.

"Open your mouth," he said urgently.

"Yes, Master," Freed slurred. That word sent a shudder through Mard Geer and he reached down to quickly stroke himself. "Do you want me to catch it all?"

"Yes," Mard groaned. "All of it. Swallow it all down, my little human."

His strokes came faster as he watched Freed wait so patiently for his release. "Master," Freed hummed. "I want to taste you." Without permission, Freed's hands curved around his balls and gently kneaded his sac. "I'll swallow it all, Master."

" _Ngh_ … Freed…" Mard's upper lip curled into a vicious sneer as he thrust between Freed's lips once, twice. Mard let out a sharp breath at the warm heat that enveloped his cock so quickly before being drawn away. "Yes! Again!"

Freed dove forward and sucked heavily at his tip, then cried out when Mard dragged him back by his hair just as his release shot up his length.

"Fuck!" Mard roared. His scalp burned and his fingers trembled as he watched a stream of white splatter over Freed's cheek and up to his left eye. Such a broken, beautiful human, so greedily leaning up to catch the next shot directly in his mouth. "Yes!"

Freed moaned as the flavor washed over his taste buds. Mard could hear it, how he enjoyed the taste. He stroked again, shivering as his release continued to pump out of him. He very nearly lost the will to stand when Freed's elegant finger swiped the cum from his eye and cheek, right into his open mouth.

"Swallow," he breathed, his voice trembling. Freed smiled and followed his instructions, then slowly opened his hazy eyes. "Such a good little human…"

Freed hummed and leaned forward, running his tongue along Mard's softening cock. The night was still young, but this little meeting in the alley couldn't continue. Which meant… He would be visiting Freed again. Mard needed him, but he understood his human's reservations concerning his mother still sleeping the night away in his home. He could be respectful of Freed's needs.

Instead of doing what he truly desired, Mard pulled back and righted his clothing. Freed's confused pout nearly had him smiling. "That is all for tonight," he said.

"But-"

"For tonight," Mard said again, carefully pulling Freed up to stand. "I will walk you to the end of the block near your home. I trust you'll be able to manage from there."

Freed nodded slowly, but Mard could see that he was uncomfortably aroused. While he would love to alleviate the Rune mage's need, he decided it would be better to keep him wanting.

"How long will she be here?" he asked, leaning forward to lightly tease Freed's lips apart with his tongue.

Freed whimpered softly. "A week. Hopefully less… I cannot stand it when she visits."

It wasn't Mard's place to tell Freed how to live his life, or deal with the insignificant parasites that latched onto him. He hated the small, vulnerable quaver in his voice, though. "When she is gone, I'll come to you. Will you wait that long?"

"Always," Freed breathed. He could taste his own release and the bite of alcohol when they kissed again. It would be interesting to see if Freed could last the week. How desperate would he be? Mard was eager to find out.

* * *

Freed struggled to unlock his door with his keys, and wrote a simple unlocking rune on the door. He bit his numb lips while stumbling inside, snickering as he bumped into the coat rack while trying to close the door. He made sure to lock it once it was closed again.

It took more effort than he'd realized when he tried to remove his boots. But he couldn't wear those up the stairs. That would wake his mother.

"I'd hate to have to deal with that," he hummed. A moment later, he toppled over while trying to pull his boot off. He laid on the floor and bit his lips again to hold his laughter in, then finally pried the boot from his foot. The second was easier to remove. Once they were gone, he sat up and the world swam. He couldn't stand.

Oh, but he needed to get to his bed so his mother wouldn't realize he'd left at all. That meant climbing the stairs, changing into pajamas, brushing his hair and his teeth, and crawling into bed.

Stairs first. Slowly, he crawled toward them, and even slower… he crawled up the stairs as quietly as possible. Unbeknownst to Freed, he was as successful as an elephant trying to sneak through a maze full of mouse traps. When he reached the second floor, he finally found the will to stand. Just in case his mother peeked out of her room, he didn't want her to see him crawling.

He held onto the wall and clambered down the hallway to his bedroom. Once inside, he forgot about shutting the door and disrobed right next to his bed. Brushing his hair could wait. As could brushing his teeth. He just wanted to lay down. He got as far as removing his jacket before succumbing to the need to lay in his bed, and falling onto the rich burgundy comforter.

As he fell asleep, he smiled at the memory of Mard Geer's member sitting so heavily on his tongue, forcing its way into his throat. And how soft his voice had been when he'd said, _"I want you tonight, right here. Show me that you can please me."_

He woke in the morning to find his mother smelling his jacket. He'd never known her to do something so strange, so Freed nearly brushed it off as a dream. But then she spoke to him, and her voice was so clear and so _loud_ that his muddied mind wasn't allowed to simply ignore it.

"Your jacket smells of roses," she said, smelling it again.

Freed groaned and rolled onto his back. He couldn't bring himself to care about much as his brain turned to mush between his ears at the slight movement. But when her words caught up with him, and her actions paired with it to make some semblance of sense, he went rigid.

She was smelling his jacket. Smelling _Mard Geer Tartaros_ on his jacket.

"Aside from coming home reeking of cheap alcohol," she said.

He slowly opened his eyes to look at her, frowning down at his stomach when he realized that his shirt was gone. When had he taken that off? He remembered removing his jacket, but nothing else.

The way she looked at his chest had him struggling to focus a little harder. And then he remembered that, on the way home, he'd begged Mard to give him just the smallest bit of relief. And the Demon King had relented by pushing him up against a window of a closed bakery, popping the buttons on his shirt while ripping it open, and leaving several bites and dark hickeys on his chest while clamping a hand over his mouth.

She was seeing the marks Mard had left on him. His head dropped to the bed and he covered his eyes with his arm. He couldn't deal with this. Not her or her yelling or her hatred of who he was.

"I'm surprised you found a woman in this decrepit town who would wear such expensive perfume," she said.

He couldn't stop himself from smiling in relief over that. Let her believe what she wanted. He didn't care anymore. His arm moved away from his eyes to glance at her again, to find her smiling at him with intrigue.

"I am more surprised that you would let someone mark you so, Freed."

He chuckled then. She had no idea what he would _let_ the right man do to him. "Roses are a weakness of mine," he said, gulping as he realized how hoarse his voice was. His throat scratched uncomfortably when he swallowed.

His mother dropped his jacket to the floor. "I do hope you'll be down soon to make breakfast."

"I shall, Mother," he sighed.

"And be sure to cover up your eye," she said. "The demon is showing. Honestly, it's enough to put me off my appetite."

He jolted and covered his right eye with his bangs as she walked out of his room, closing the door behind her. His head pounded and he was sure his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets while forcing himself to sit up. He needed just a moment to clear his head of this hangover, then he could begin his day.

Freed swallowed again, groaning at the discomfort in his throat. But that wasn't from the alcohol. He recognized this. He'd felt just as sore the morning after Mard had fucked him senseless in this very bed. The pain was worth it, because now he would have a constant reminder that the night before had been real. Mard Geer had come for him, wanted _him_. He'd waited until the time was right, and Freed was so desperate for him that they'd… they'd done _that_ in an alley where anyone could see.

For once, he felt desired.

* * *

By the end of the week, Freed was at his wit's end. He couldn't deal with his mother's incessant nagging anymore. Every single day, there was something else for her to complain about. Every single hour, she found some way to tear him down. He couldn't take this. If she stayed much longer, he would end up saying something to her that he would definitely regret.

Just last night, he'd very nearly thrown his slowcooker at her face just to watch her be burnt by beef stew. He'd imagined it while ladling himself a second helping, and how he would have shouted over her screams that he was everything she feared. He was gay. As gay as they came. The only thing that could make it any more obvious was if he started dancing in a burlesque show with high heels and a corset.

"Freed, stop dawdling and bring my bags down."

He knew that she'd technically cut her visit short this time, because she needed to help Amelie with preparations for her engagement ball. Freed was never more thankful for it.

"I expect a _yes, mother_ from you!" she bellowed as he started up the stairs.

Freed closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes, Mother," he ground out.

"I raised you with better manners than that, Freed!" she shrieked. "Don't you dare turn into a disrespectful monster now!"

He ignored her tirade and went to the room she'd been using. Thankfully, she didn't leave a mess behind. His mother had dusted the room herself - he knew, because she'd told him that dust gave her hives, and she'd started breaking out after sleeping in the room for just a single night. He picked up her bags and carried them downstairs, then out the front door. Braden was a bastard for not being there just yet.

Freed needed her to leave.

She walked outside and closed the front door, crossing her arms over her small bust. His teeth ground together when her heel tapped on the wooden flooring of his porch. "You have one month," she said. "Get your affairs in order, and be ready to attend Amelie's ball."

"Yes, Mother," he mumbled.

"If you happen to decide to bring a date, she will have to be approved by me first," she said. He could feel her heavy glare boring into the right side of his face, and slowly turned to look at her. "Just because some harlot smells like roses, doesn't mean she'll be an acceptable accessory on your arm."

"I know, Mother."

"You would be better off not bringing anyone at all," she said. "Unless it is someone you are truly considering for marriage. But you know that anyone you find here will never be up to snuff back home."

"Yes, Mother," he said, his tone flat. She wanted to talk, and have him respond with the appropriate answer. She didn't care if he actually agreed.

The sight of her SE vehicle pulling up into his drive was a welcome one. He'd needed Braden to be there days ago to drag the wretch that was his mother from his home.

"It would be a shame for you to embarrass some poor girl by making her think she is good enough to be around nobility." Braden jumped out of the car and rushed forward to grab Francine's bags, quickly taking them to the car to be set in the trunk. She took a step down, then paused when she realized Freed wasn't walking with her like he usually did. "Are you coming?"

"I just had a thought," he said, glaring down at her. "Do you think it is so easy for men to leave you, because you are insufferable?"

"... Pardon me?"

Freed gave her a noncommittal shrug. "Of the four men you have married since Father's death, three have divorced you." He took a great amount of pleasure in being able to see how red her face grew, even through her makeup. "You claim that my behavior dictates the perception of others on our family, yet there you are, dragging it down by marrying the first piece of meat that shows you any attention."

"Freed! You have no right-"

"Ah, but it is as you said. As the only male in the family, I have _every_ right." What was he doing? Good heavens, those words couldn't possibly be coming out of his mouth! "Maybe if you would think with your brain, instead of the flabby roast beef between your legs, those in high society would have something better to talk about than the state of affairs in the Justine family."

She sputtered and ground her teeth together, but he said nothing more. And finally, as her breaths grew heavier, he watched distantly as her eyes fluttered and she collapsed backward onto the stairs. Freed didn't move. He just stared at her limp body, even as Braden yelled out in alarm and ran back toward them.

"Madame," Braden said, kneeling by her side. "Madame, are you alright?" He looked up at Freed with a scowl. "What did you…" The suddenly deadly aura surrounding Freed had his voice dying on a crackling whimper.

"Get her out of here," Freed said with a sneer. "And tell her that she will not bring an invitation personally. I will see her at Amelie's engagement ball."

"Y-Yes sir!" Braden yelped. He hefted Francine into his arms and carried her to the car. He very nearly tossed in the backseat and rushed to the driver's side, then sped out of the drive as quickly as possible.

Freed stood completely still for several minutes after she was gone, staring at the black marks on the concrete left behind by the vehicle's tires. He'd scared Braden, without meaning to. He'd spoken to his mother so cruelly. What was wrong with him? All week, he'd been on edge, ready to snap at her over the tiniest of annoyances. She'd behaved worse than what he'd dealt with this past week, and yet… only now had it become an issue.

Freed turned and made his way back into his home. He closed the door, and just the soft sound of the metal bolt shifting into place had him biting his lips to hold back the angry tears that welled on his lashes. She'd never made him so mad in all his life, but something about this time had made it so much worse. And he hadn't cared in the slightest that she'd fainted. She might have been hurt, and he had done _nothing_ to help.

He was becoming a monster.

Slow clapping had Freed's head snapping to the side, to the archway that led to his study just off the foyer. He peeked into the room and found Mard Geer casually sitting in his leather reading chair, smiling as he applauded. It didn't take a genius to see what he would do that for. He'd heard what Freed had said to his mother. The monster in his study apparently approved of this form of cruelty.

"Back alley deals are never fully satisfying," Mard said. "You should be glad that I waited until she was gone. I cannot promise I will have the same restraint now."

A week ago, this would have been a dream come true. Freed had quite literally dreamt of this exact moment as the days passed. Of Mard Geer showing up out of nowhere, promising hours of dark, tantalizing pleasure that would leave his voice a ragged mess. Of Freed willingly following him up the stairs, or letting him bend him over the kitchen counter, the stove, his dining table, pinning him to the fireplace. Anywhere…

But now, he didn't know how to feel.

Even just looking at Mard, he could feel that familiar deep-seated need taking hold of him. But he didn't want this. Not like this. It had to have been Mard's influence that had darkened him. His eye had been dormant unless Freed tapped into that demonic power, until he'd spent that night with Mard Geer. Something had happened to taint him further than he already was.

He could so easily picture himself saying _"I hope you'll put those restraints to good use."_ But the words never passed his thinned, trembling lips. Instead, Freed turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs. He wouldn't let Mard see him in this state. He refused to be weak around the Demon King, no weaker than he'd already allowed himself to be.

By the time he reached his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, Freed heard a soft chuckle coming from his bed. He whirled in place and found Mard Geer sitting on the edge, one leg crossed over the other and the Book of E.N.D. on the nightstand, still within reach. Tears burned their way down his cheeks, but he swiped them away quickly and ran into his bathroom.

What he'd thought was just the sting of tears had Freed crying out and holding his cheek as he bumped into the counter. This wasn't a metaphorical burning. He pushed his hair away from his eye, and couldn't find his breath while staring at the red veins branching out from the socket.

What was happening to him? _Why_ was this happening?

Was this his punishment for being cruel? For not being more thankful to have a mother who cared about him? Was this what he'd earned for laying down with a demon?

For being impure?

His fingers shook as they touched the red veins on his cheek, brushed under his widened purple eye. A sharp sob broke past his lips when a patch of skin peeled away and revealed grey scaly flesh.

Had his mother, even though she was unconscious, used her power over the demon to do this to him?

"Wh-What is this?" he cried. He didn't have answers, but Mard might. While he didn't want to see the demon in question, he needed to know. He ran to the door and threw it open, only to find his room empty. The Book of E.N.D. was gone from his nightstand. Freed ran down the stairs, checked his study, but the demon was nowhere to be found.

Mard wasn't there. He couldn't help. But Freed's mother could. He'd been so stupid to yell at her. His hands shook while picking up his lacrima. If he could call her, apologize for the horrible things he'd said, then she would make this stop. She would take back the curse she'd put on him.

The lacrima pulsed in his hands, and finally connected. His mother's face was on the screen and she didn't look happy to see him. Her scowl diminished only slightly when she saw the tears trailing down his cheek.

"M-Mother, I am sorry. Please forgive me for being such an ungrateful child. Please!"

" _Why the sudden change of heart?"_

He pushed his bangs away from his face, not noticing how her eyes widened in horror. "Please. I am sorry. I know you control the demon. I didn't forget, I just… I was upset. I should never have said those things to you!"

" _Freed…"_

"I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I will never disobey you again!" He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, and cried harder when he heard the skin crackling as more peeled off from his face. "Mother, make this stop. I forgot myself, but I won't do it again."

She sighed and narrowed her eyes at him. _"It will disappear when I say, and not a moment sooner. You should be happy that you apologized when you did."_

"Y-Yes, Mother," he whimpered.

" _Never disrespect me, Freed. This is your punishment."_

"Yes, M-Mother… I apologize for bothering you. Please, call on me whenever you wish."

She smiled at him then. _"That's my sweet boy. I will return to collect you for Amelie's ball. Is that acceptable? Braden told me what you said."_

"I would b-be honored," he lied. "I'm sorry…"

" _Yes, so you have said. I shall talk with you soon, Freed."_

He dropped the lacrima to the floor when the screen went dark. How could he have forgotten what she'd taught him when he was still just a child. She knew the demon was held inside of him, and she'd proven time and again that she had the power to control it if he misbehaved. His sisters didn't know. They could never know that he had a demon latched onto his soul. They couldn't know the truth about why he allowed their mother to treat him the way she did.

His doorbell rang, and Freed stumbled over to it. His blurred vision could barely see through the peephole, but when he did… Another sob broke past his lips and he yanked the door open to reveal Mard Geer standing on his front porch.

"What do you want?!" Freed yelled.

Mard Geer blinked in surprise at the sudden shout. Freed bolted forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Mard's waist, forcing the Demon King to stumble back a step. "What is the matter?"

Freed sniffled and shook his head, burrowing into Mard's shoulder. "M-Make it stop! Just make it stop!"

A tender hand curled around his cheek, forcing his face upward. Midnight eyes narrowed at the sight of his revealed eye, the skin peeling from his cheek.

"She did this, because of wh-what I said… I was so stupid!"

Mard gently pushed him inside before his neighbors could hear the commotion, and the door closed behind him. "Who did this to you?"

His thumbs brushed over Freed's eyes, up across his eyebrows, and the Rune mage whimpered when he saw flakes of skin falling in front of his right eye. "My m-mother," he finally said. "Sh-She controls the demon. And if I'm bad…" He didn't notice the suddenly deadly aura around Mard Geer, far too focused on the gentle touch against the back of his head, pulling him closer to rest against Mard's chest. He'd been so stupid, believing he could live his life the way he wanted. He was trapped, and he always would be. "I didn't mean to do it… I swear… I tried to behave…"

Mard Geer leaned back against the door, holding Freed tightly to him. He gently stroked the Rune mage's hair and glared at the stairs - one of the few things in his line of sight. Whatever his witch of a mother had done, she was going to pay for it.

* * *

 **The song referenced in this chapter is "The Fox" by Nickel Creek.  
You can find it on YouTube here: **_**watch? v=-t3fBEEnQuM**_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this. I will say, writing chapter 3 put me seriously behind in my homework for grad school, so it was a total bear trying to get all caught up. Spring Break has begun, thank the fucking stars. I figured I needed to get back to this story. It really just wants to be written, and who am I to deny the muses?!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4**_

* * *

It took some time for Freed to calm down. Mard wasn't accustomed to dealing so intimately with hysterical humans. He'd tortured plenty in his lifetime, and a good number of them did lose a fair portion of their sanity in the process, but he'd never actually _cared_ about their tears. He'd only cared that they were having the proper reaction to his torture.

But he wasn't the one torturing Freed - and he didn't want to torture his little human in a way they wouldn't both enjoy. The Rune mage's mother was bringing this reaction out of Freed, and he seemed moments away from crumbling.

Even though he wasn't really sure how to deal with this, he could guess. He'd noticed how much Freed enjoyed his hands, and having pulled him closer did give the Rune mage an anchor. Maybe that was all he needed.

"I never should have said those things to her," Freed whimpered. "I was anxious and on edge around her, but that doesn't mean… I'm so stupid…"

Freed tightly gripped the lapels of Mard's jacket, leaned against him more fully as though his legs couldn't be trusted to hold him upright. He cried, and Mard let him, even though he could feel the moisture soaking into the fabric of his shirt. He didn't like this version of Freed, this pathetically broken shell of a man. Mard knew humans were fragile creatures, but to think Freed was just as fragile…

He hated it.

And still, he kept his arms around Freed and found his fingers seeking out the long green tresses he'd admired when they first met. He carefully brushed his fingers through Freed's hair, let his nails drag along his scalp.

That used to help Mard when he was in a particularly foul mood. Gada did it for him all the time. His lips turned down slightly, and he lifted Freed's chin again. Even with their noses nearly touching, he focused solely on the revealed demonic skin. He didn't remember Gada having those pale grey scales over his eyes, or anywhere on his body. Maybe this demon in Freed wasn't the one he'd known. Maybe it was someone else.

But that didn't explain the feeling he had while being so close to the dark energy that pulsed from within the Rune mage's soul.

"I have never heard of something like this happening," Mard finally said. He couldn't look away from what nearly seemed like a flaking tear in the right side of Freed's face, from just above his eyebrow and down to a centimeter below the bottom of his bangs.

"I told you," Freed said. "My mother is punishing me for the things I said to her. She says she will remove this when I am forgiven."

Mard's eyes narrowed angrily. "And how long has she had control over the demon in you?"

"My whole life," Freed said. "Before I left home, she would ensure I followed her every rule. If I failed, she would use the demon to punish me."

"In what ways?"

Freed sighed and laid his head on Mard's chest again, turning to the right so he wouldn't lose more of his human skin. "I snuck out with the baker's son one night, when I was nine. We went into town to the candy store, and I bought us both a lollipop. When we came back, my mother already knew. She said she watched it through the demon's eye…" His head lowered slightly. "That is what she calls it…"

"You were caught, but I suspect more…"

Freed nodded slowly. "She put me in the study and yelled at the baker's son, and then… She made the demon take over my body. I ripped off the boy's arm while I was changed. She changed me back, and made me look at what I had done."

"Take over?" Mard whispered to himself.

"I created a spell when I was older," Freed said. "It helps to control the demon myself. I choose when I use that body… But she forced me to do it. Because she's the one who gives it orders."

"You told me about the time before leaving your family home," Mard said. "What about now?"

Freed's eyes closed and his brow furrowed. He whimpered when he heard the soft crackle of peeling flesh at the simple movement. "She visits whenever she pleases," he said. "I cannot refuse her in my home. I am expected to be a shining example of gentility. She does grant me the courtesy of informing me before her visits, so I can prepare."

"And if you are unable to accommodate her?"

"Unless the circumstances are unavoidable - like an extended absence for a mission - I would be punished."

The woman controlled every aspect of Freed's life, with the exception of his work as a Fairy Tail mage. She had made her own child into a slave. And Freed had no choice in the matter. From what Mard had gathered, he had neither chosen to host the demon, nor to have his mother controlling the entirety of his existence.

"If she knew about you…" Free trailed off, unable to continue speaking, but Mard heard it.

' _She would be ruthless. Maybe she would make me attack him, but he's strong. He would obliterate me in an instant. Maybe she would just force me to kill myself… She can never know the truth…'_

"You honestly believe your own mother would have you killed over what we have done?" Mard was left speechless over Freed's timid nod. He could understand the terror that streaked across his mind when thinking about her. Freed was genuinely afraid of the repercussions of his mother discovering the truth about his sexuality. What in the nine hells had she done to him?

They were silent for several minutes while Mard let himself get lost in thought. He was genuinely surprised when Freed spoke.

"Would you tell me how you were in the study after she left?"

Mard's lips turned down slightly. "I have only been in your study once," he said.

Freed drew back with his confusion showing clearly in his pinched brows. "You were there," he said. "When I came inside after she left, you were in the study. You were clapping about what I said to her... And then my room when…"

Mard shook his head. "I do not have the ability to teleport," he said. "I can move very quickly, but not that quickly. And I did not hear any of the conversation between the two of you."

This wasn't good. The demon in Freed's soul sounded incredibly unstable, if he was hallucinating. If Freed was imagining him in his home, either a spectral image of his own desire or something else, this had to be the work of the demon in his soul. But Mard just didn't know enough about the circumstances around his possession to determine anything just yet.

"So now I am losing my mind…"

Was this his fault? Mard couldn't take responsibility for the psychological abuse Freed's mother subjected him to, but he'd mentioned so briefly that he'd been anxious that week. Mard had toyed with him, without considering the ramifications it might have. He'd neglected to take outside factors into consideration when they'd been in that alley. He'd been the one to leave Freed wanting, desperate for more of his attention, without realizing that the Rune mage's mother would compound the stress.

Because of his meddling, Freed was left in this state, mentally. He didn't feel remorseful, but he knew that they wouldn't be able to continue this escapade unless he was able to return the Rune mage to a healthier state of mind. Without knowing more about Freed's life, he'd put his little human in serious danger of being mentally damaged.

Mard admired Freed's intelligence. He refused to see it squandered because of something as minor as foreplay.

"I cannot help you with what your mother has done," Mard said, slowly brushing his thumb over Freed's chin. He didn't miss the tremor running through him, or how he expected for more skin to peel away - though it seemed confined to the area immediately surrounding his right eye.

"I don't expect you to," Freed sighed. "I must accept this, and hope she will forgive me."

He wanted to tell Freed that this could be remedied quickly by having him kill the conniving bitch. Then Freed would never have to deal with her again. Yet… he knew that couldn't happen. Freed had been so heavily conditioned, he would most likely defend her.

Instead, he bent down and hefted Freed over his shoulder, smirking when the Rune mage squawked and grasped desperately at his waist.

"What are you doing?"

"I cannot help with that," Mard said while walking toward the stairs. "But I can help in other ways."

"I do not need your assistance! I can walk for myself!"

Mard chuckled as he paused halfway up the stairs. "Would you have willingly taken me to your bed?"

"No!"

"Then you must be carried."

"Put me down!"

"I think not."

"Mard Geer Tartaros, I said to put me down!" he bellowed.

"I rather enjoy the way my name sounds coming from you," Mard chuckled. "Do stop struggling."

"I will when you put me down!"

Honestly, Mard had assumed Freed would make a point of getting himself down. Instead, he was allowing Mard to carry him. Did he feel as though he wasn't capable of doing something so simple? Had he forgotten that he could write runes to teleport himself away from Mard's grasp?

He stepped into Freed's bedroom and noticed the mussed bedding. It seemed there was a great deal wrong. A glance at the clock showed it was nearly four in the afternoon, but Freed had yet to make his bed. From what Mard remembered of the time they'd been together, Freed had made the bed just as soon as Mard had gotten up to use the mirror to brush his hair. By the time he'd finished, Freed was already fluffing the pillows.

"Your bed is a mess," Mard said. He hadn't expected Freed to flinch and go limp.

"I was busy… I apologize for the mess."

It was a response ingrained in him. Mard could tell. That hollowness in his voice, the shame wafting off of him. He was conditioned to apologize when someone mentioned a shortcoming of his. Maybe not everyone, but those Freed viewed as sitting in a position higher than himself. And considering he'd so willingly called Mard his Master before…

"If you let me down, I can fix it…"

Mard grinned and tossed him onto the bed, watching with no small amount of amusement as Freed yelped when he bounced, and the blanket flopped down onto his face. Before he could pull it away, Mard crawled on top of him, straddled his thin hips and planted his hands on either side of Freed's head. "Now, why would I make you fix it, when it will only be strewn about shortly?"

Freed's mind went silent, and his eyes widened. Mard couldn't tell if it was shock or fear. Interesting. But if he could make Freed relax, then he could help. And Mard knew the easiest way to relax was to be naked and writhing in a bed.

"I have been sensing more demonic energy coming from your eye," Mard said carefully. His fingers feathered across Freed's brow, brushing his bangs away once again. "Can you sense it?"

Freed shook his head.

"Allow me to inspect you," Mard said. "To be thorough, and ensure your mother's machinations are not affecting you elsewhere." A small lie. He could already tell that the power emanated from Freed's eye. It wasn't affecting him anywhere else, but Freed wasn't aware of that. Mard had a feeling that, if this was more severe, his skin would be peeling in more than just his cheek.

"Y-You mean…"

"I am familiar with the energy you emit," he said, a slow smirk pulling at his lips when Freed's breath hitched. "If it is more concentrated than usual, I will be able to tell."

"And what will you do if…"

"If I determine there is increased demonic energy?" he asked. Freed gave him a shaky nod. This turn in their conversation had thrown him off-kilter once again. That hadn't been Mard's intention at all. Maybe this would be more difficult than he'd assumed. Was he not willing to play this game?

When he listened closer, Freed didn't realize what he was doing. He hadn't picked up on the small cues.

This wasn't like him at all.

Mard sat back and removed the Book of E.N.D. from the leather strap on his belt - a contraption he'd fashioned after realizing that he didn't want his hands constantly occupied by holding it, but also not wanting to remove it from his person. He set it on Freed's nightstand.

He settled himself back on Freed's hips. If he wasn't aware of the game, then Mard needed to ease him into this. He knew that he could help the Rune mage, but he had to be willing to play along. It wouldn't work if Freed wasn't aware of what he was doing. Or if he refused to play along when he knew what Mard intended to do.

"Then I will help you," Mard finally said in answer to Freed's question. "I cannot stop what is happening with your skin, but I am fully capable of dealing with unruly demons." He leaned forward and brushed his nose along Freed's, not missing the way the Rune mage flinched. "Do not tell me to stop."

"What?"

"I will not listen if you say stop," Mard said again. "Say _wait_ , and I will. When I may continue, tell me to _begin._ "

It wasn't a perfect safeword, but what he had planned was nowhere near intense enough - in his opinion - to warrant different levels of safety. A simple _wait_ would suffice.

"Why not stop?" Freed asked. Mard grinned and brought his hands to the collar of Freed's shirt. He deftly loosened the cravat, then started unbuttoning the pale pink fabric. Freed gasped and instinctively pushed at his hands. "Stop!"

"That is not what I want to hear," Mard said.

"Wait!"

Mard's fingers froze, and he sat back only slightly. His expression didn't change. He couldn't let Freed believe that he was upset or disappointed about having to stop what he was doing. If anything, his adorable little human needed to learn how Mard preferred to spend time with his lover. "This does not completely stop everything," he said. "But I will wait just like this. And you will tell me why you have given me that safe word."

"Safe word?" Freed asked, incredulous. With a quick listen, Mard finally understood. Freed hadn't realized that this was his preference. In his experience, Freed's previous lovers had only agreed to rough sex. Some light spanking here and there. He'd called a handful of men _Master_ while in bed, but only in the sense of roleplaying. But Mard having used that word, _safe word_ , unlocked the knowledge in the Rune mage. He wanted to truly own Freed - not quite as his slave, but his submissive. "M-Mard… I…"

"You are in no place to make a decision about that," Mard said. "But I toyed with your emotions the last time we were together, and left you in this state. It is up to me to remedy that."

"What are you talking about?" Freed asked. "You have not upset me. Dealing with my mother-"

"Have you yelled at her as you did today?" Mard asked. "Forgotten to control your temper around her?"

Freed drew back further into the bed and looked to the side. "No," he said softly. "I have never done that…"

"I can be very intentional with my words, Freed," Mard said. "Do allow me to continue, and I will explain." It took a moment for Freed to relax again, but he took a deep, steadying breath and allowed Mard to keep unbuttoning his shirt. "Remember to tell me to wait, if I must stop."

Freed breathed deeply again. "I understand."

Mard smiled down at the pale skin of his chest. His thin waist and thinner hips. He untucked Freed's shirt, then moved to the buttons on the sleeves. "What I said to you, our last time together, was meant to set you on edge until I came to claim you." He easily pulled Freed up to sit and removed his shirt - only just realizing that he wasn't wearing his maroon jacket. "It was a tool to force you to think about me, what we did in that alley, and the desire you have for the pleasure you were promised."

"Wait," Freed said as Mard reached for his belt, staring in wonder as Mard's thin fingers froze again, just before touching the polished bronze buckle. "You manipulated me."

"I did. Intentionally," Mard said. "With the understanding - I had assumed - that I would fulfill my end of the agreement after your mother had left."

"You willingly manipulated me," Freed said, scowling at his hands.

"I was incorrect in assuming that you understood my intent," Mard admitted. He hated admitting something like this, but considering how Freed's mind had been left in such turmoil… this needed to be spelled out. He refused to have misunderstandings ruin this. "I will not make that mistake again."

Freed took another heavy breath, and Mard listened as his mind turned over the information he'd been given. That was good. He was thinking more like himself again. "Begin," Freed said.

Mard chuckled and deftly unbuckled his belt, then pushed the button through on his pants. "With how you reacted to that Infernai lesson, and how easily you fit into the role I seek for a lover, I had been left under the impression that you were experienced."

"I am no virgin," Freed chuckled.

"That is not what I mean." Mard slid back off Freed's hips and stood at the edge of the bed. He grabbed the waistband of Freed's pants and boxers, and slowly peeled them down his thin, pale legs. It took more willpower than he'd thought to stop himself from reacting outwardly to Freed's naked body. It was just as he remembered, so toned and slim. The way his hip bones jutted out just slightly had Mard ready to mark him with heady, wanting kisses. His gaze trailed from Freed's slender ankles, over the pale green hairs on his shins and thighs, pausing at the flaccid cock that leaned to the left only slightly. Back to Freed's hips, his waist, his biteable chest and the pale pink of his nipples.

By the time he looked back into Freed's mismatched eyes, Mard's pants had grown exponentially tighter.

"I thought you were more experienced," he said, struggling not to sound breathless, "In having a proper Master. Submitting fully to someone."

"You mean BDSM?" Freed asked. The term was unfamiliar to him, but he listened to Freed's mind whirling with the possibilities - whips and chains, the Rune mage gagged and kneeling on the floor with Mard standing over him, heavy spankings, rope suspension… The list was endless. So humans had a name for that - an acronym, he realized. In his experience, that was just normal coupling.

Mard nodded. "For demons, bedding someone is about dominance. Rough sex and a little verbal foreplay is a far cry different from my past lovers." He did have to be honest. What he and Freed had done was mild in comparison. Mard hadn't made him bleed, that he was aware of. He'd been more cautious with Freed's fragile human body.

"O-Oh…"

Mard's head tilted slightly at that. It wasn't quite jealousy from Freed, but there was definitely a reaction. He couldn't be positive, but he was sure it wasn't a good reaction, either. "Make yourself comfortable on the bed," he said. "Lie on your stomach."

"But-"

"Do not question me," Mard chuckled, leaning forward to tenderly kiss the tip of his nose. Just that simple action had Freed's muscles easing. Did he need hints of affection to make him more pliant? Mard could do that. He wasn't accustomed to doing it regularly, but he was capable. He brushed his fingers through Freed's hair again, smirking when he saw how those mismatched eyes slid closed. "Lie on your stomach," he said again. "I will be in your bathroom for only a moment."

"Alright."

Mard hummed. He would love for Freed to call him Master again, but that could wait. If he wanted a slave to blindly devote themselves to him, he would go back to the Underworld. He stood to his full height and made his way to the ensuite, then quickly rummaged through the cabinets. He took a dry, folded towel from beneath one sink, and a bottle of lotion from the cupboard over the toilet. Just as he was about to return, he paused. There, on the counter, he saw Freed's brush. He walked over and picked it up, noticing that there were still a few dark violet hairs woven in the bristles.

If he wanted to keep Freed as his lover, he would need to pamper him on occasion. And considering the dangerous faux pas he'd committed, that was definitely in order. Just this once, he could be gentle. He could remember that Freed was no demon - as Mard's previous lovers had been - and that he might need more care afterward than Mard was used to providing. It would be a learning experience, but he was eager to learn.

* * *

Freed breathed deeply while waiting for Mard to return from the bathroom. He laid on his stomach, resting his left cheek against the pillow. He wasn't sure how he felt about what was happening. For so long, he'd ached to have Mard's attention again. For the past week, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about what they'd done in that alley, and how Mard had kissed him.

" _When she is gone, I'll come to you."_

Mard had made good on that promise, but Freed had been left so wound up while dealing with his mother. Trying to hide his anticipation of Mard's impending visit, wishing she had already left so he could see the Demon King again… Was that really why he'd snapped at her?

His eyes opened when he heard Mard return. Freed propped himself on his elbows and watched curiously as Mard laid a towel on the bed. What in the world was he planning?

Freed wasn't entirely sure if he could handle any of his teasing. Not with the way he felt. He was still too raw from what had happened with his mother. And yet… Freed didn't want to think about her any longer. There was nothing that could be done about his face now.

The fact that Mard didn't seem disgusted by what was happening, only served to baffle him further. Did he simply not care? Was he ignoring it in favor of something more pleasurable? Mard unfolded the towel, but Freed was too focused on the waves of violet hair cascading over his shoulder from his high ponytail to notice. Then the slender line of his jaw. Why did he have to be so beautiful?

Why did Freed have to lose his senses around Mard Geer?

He came back to himself when the towel was laid over his hips, giving him the smallest bit of modesty. Why would Mard have disrobed him, if he was planning on covering him up again?

He watched in silence as Mard crawled onto the bed and knelt beside him. Slowly, Mard removed his shirt - when had he taken off his jacket? In the bathroom? - and carelessly tossed it behind him. The sight of his brush in Mard's hands had Freed more confused.

He gathered the ends of Freed's hair and removed the tie that held it together. Freed turned to watch over his shoulder as Mard gently brushed the tips, moving his way higher with each slow stroke. "What are…"

"This is an apology, Freed," he said, meeting wide turquoise eyes with his own calm, steady midnight gaze. "They are not a common occurrence, but I am partially responsible for putting you in this state."

Freed was wholly surprised by the slow smile stretching over Mard's lips. For someone who should have been an unholy creature, he was positive that soft pink light in the air around him was misplaced. How could he be so divine?

"Tell me what you desire, and you will have it." Mard sectioned his hair and started brushing from his scalp down to the tips, but Freed didn't know what to say. He didn't deserve anything, aside from basic necessities to keep himself alive. He deserved to live, but that was all… His mother had taught him that, and he couldn't let himself forget it. He desired a great many things, but he couldn't have them.

Freedom? A joke.

Someone to love him? Impossible.

A warm body to pass the time with? Possible, but not recommended.

He didn't speak, and instead rested his chin on his arms. There was no point in answering.

Mard hesitated in brushing the next section of his hair, then leaned forward to look at Freed's face. "Do you not want the release you were promised?"

Freed didn't deserve this. Any of this. Mard had the audacity to ask what he wanted, but it was nothing that he could give. Freed highly doubted he would accept it as an answer in the first place. Or maybe he would, but only because he wanted to apologize for being manipulative. Freed couldn't think. This was… This was all just too much!

Freed wanted Mard.

"I can give myself to you," Mard whispered.

Freed wanted Mard to hold him. To be gentle just like this. To make him feel cherished again.

"I can hold you, if you wish," Mard said. His lips brushed across Freed's right cheek, taking another bit of human flesh with him as he pulled away. "I can cherish you."

Selfishness made his mother use her power over his demon to torment him. He couldn't ask anything of Mard Geer. What price would he have to pay for his selfish desires now? Freed didn't think he could pay any other price. Those things that Mard said, how would he know if the demon was telling the truth? What if this was just another manipulation? He'd toyed with Freed before, and maybe he had been since their first night together. How would he be able to tell if this was genuine, or Mard was only doing it to get what he wanted?

"Just tell me that I have permission to care for you," Mard said. "Do not worry about the rest."

Mard wanted to take care of him? That didn't sound right at all. The King of the Underworld, some high and mighty ruler with power beyond measure… lowering himself to take care of a lowly human like Freed? This wasn't right. Nothing felt right anymore. In such a short time, his life had been turned completely upside down, and Freed wasn't sure if anything could fix it.

Maybe Mard was only offering a temporary fix, or maybe it was truly what he needed.

He didn't know, and he found himself unable to put his thoughts in order. Never before in his life had he felt so chaotic.

Freed dropped his forehead to his arms and buried his face in the pillow beneath him. He didn't care if the rest of his skin peeled off. What did it matter? "I don't know what I need anymore," he muttered.

Mard stayed silent and started brushing his hair again. That was relaxing. The silence permeating his bedroom was usually a comfort, and the gentle tingle in his scalp from the brush bristles and Mard's dexterous fingers helped to lull him into a nearly meditative state. He wasn't sure how long Mard kept at it - Freed did have a lot of hair, after all, and it usually took him a good 45 minutes to give it a thorough brushing - but he eventually stopped. Freed's lips pursed slightly.

He didn't open his eyes to see Mard opening the bottle of lotion he'd gotten from the bathroom. Freed listened, only half aware of the sound of the cap twisting, the soft _plop_ into Mard's hand, how he rubbed his hands together to warm the lotion before touching his shoulders.

Instantly, he groaned. Mard's thumbs pressed into the tense knots coiled around themselves in his shoulders. Every movement was precise, thorough, deep and penetrating with just the right amount of pressure to ease the tension that had been building in him for the past seven days… For the past six months…

His body was limp when Mard moved down his back to his thighs. Freed didn't think twice over Mard spreading his legs, or how close the demon's hand came to his genitals. Mard didn't venture higher. He focused on one thigh, then the other. Each knee, his calves, ankles, and feet.

Freed groaned a little more loudly as Mard's knuckles pushed from his heel, through his arch, and up to the ball of his foot.

He was unaware of the pleased smile curling Mard's lips at that reaction.

No words were spoken as the towel was removed and Mard carefully rolled him onto his back. He starts with Freed's fingers, up to his hands and wrists, paying special attention to the tendons in both elbows.

"I should have been honest from the beginning," Mard said, causing Freed's eyes to open to slits. "I will be honest now, Freed."

"I do appreciate honesty," Freed hummed. He took a slow, deep breath and closed his eyes again as Mard's hands massaged his shoulders, up to his throat.

"I enjoy seeing the way you cry," Mard began. Freed peeked one eye open when Mard straddled his hips again, finally realizing that he'd neglected to put the towel back. "I enjoy teasing you, physically and psychologically, and pushing your boundaries."

That was what put them in this predicament in the first place.

"But I must remember that you are a human." Mard massaged his chest, his thumbs trailing down Freed's sternum and circling around his ribs. "You are not accustomed to the way I interact with my lovers."

Did that mean he had more than one? Freed had to force himself not to care. It shouldn't matter whether Mard had one or one-hundred lovers at the same time, waiting in the wings. Freed knew that monogamy wasn't in the cards for him.

"You accepted my dominance over you so easily at first, I did not take the differences in our experiences into account." He slid backward and knelt between Freed's feet while rubbing them. "This, for example, is new to me."

"Massages?" Freed asked with a smirk.

"No," Mard chuckled while moving up to his shins, then knees. "Caring for my lover after the game is complete. Demons do not need things like this."

Freed wanted to say that he didn't need it either, but it would be a lie. He hadn't known just what he'd needed, but the slow relief of the tension in his body was a welcome distraction. He'd been able to think a little more clearly. Things were already feeling less hopeless, because Mard had made it feel as though he truly cared about Freed's well-being.

Mard gently kneaded his thighs, inching higher and higher. "Should this continue," he breathed, leaning forward so they shared the same air, "There will be times that you must stop me. Remind me that you are human, that you can only handle so much." Shame washed over Freed in a rush of heat, but he heard Mard's soft chuckle as his thumbs brushed the tender flesh between his legs and groin. "Do not be afraid to tell me what you need from me."

"Why?" Freed gasped when gentle fingers feathered across the short, trimmed hairs over his member.

"How could I hope to keep you satisfied, and happy, and safe, if you are not honest?" Mard rasped. "You will be miserable if you only accept what is given, and do not ask for what you desire."

Freed shivered as Mard's lips pressed against his in a barely-there kiss. He still smelled of roses. He tasted like dark promises and years of pain… like hope blossoming in his chest. Freed wanted more than anything for Mard to keep teasing him, to stroke him and touch him until he could hold back no longer.

But more than that, he knew that he needed something deeper.

For so long, he'd denied himself, and now… he had someone who seemed to truly want him. Whether Mard could be The One, he wasn't sure. But what Freed did know was that he didn't have to tell Mard _wait_ to stop him from pushing things further.

It seemed, the Demon King understood when their eyes met, keeping their lips connected, that Freed couldn't be that vulnerable. Not with how he felt. This tender care being shown to him was all he needed.

"Thank you for the massage," Freed breathed as their lips finally separated.

"I am not nearly finished," Mard chuckled. "What else can I do for you?"

Freed's cheeks darkened in a healthy blush as his arms wrapped around Mard's waist, pulled him a hair closer. "Hold me," Freed said. "I cannot explain it, but… This situation seems less terrifying if…"

If Mard's arms were around him.

Who could possibly hope to break past the protection Freed had, wrapped up in the embrace of the King of the Underworld?

"Do all humans need this much affection?" Mard chuckled as he rolled them both onto their sides and pulled Freed tightly to his chest. His arms curled tenderly around the Rune mage.

"I do not know," Freed said. He nuzzled the pale chest just in front of his nose. "But it is something I need."

He couldn't stop himself from smiling as Mard's thin lips puckered against his scalp. This feeling, this warmth and the calm aura that radiated from the man holding him… this was what he'd needed. Mard Geer had been the balm to soothe the cracks and fissures tearing him apart inside.

"Then I will cater to your needs," Mard whispered. "My little human."

* * *

They laid together for hours in Freed's bed. He'd asked Mard if he wanted to borrow a book to read, and the demon had nodded his agreement. They stayed in Freed's bed, with Freed curled in against Mard's side, and read. The silence was welcome. Mard did enjoy losing himself in a good book, and this one about the evolution of language in Fiore was very enlightening.

After several hours, Mard had nearly completed his book, and the events of the morning had finally taken their toll on the Rune mage. He fell asleep so gradually, it took some time before Mard realized it had happened.

But once he was sure that Freed was no longer conscious, Mard carefully pulled his arm from under the Rune mage's head, closed his own book and set it on the nightstand, covering the Book of E.N.D. He silently left the room, plucking the miniature triangular lacrima prism from his jacket hanging on the back of Freed's bathroom door. It was just as strong as a normal lacrima - such as the one that Freed owned - but was more compact, and it had no image to accompany the voice on the other end.

Mard waited until he was downstairs to make a call. There was no point in wasting energy to send his telepathy over long distances when he could just as easily use this device that Lucy had convinced Jackal was a necessity.

" _My lord,"_ Seilah's soft voice drifted through the air.

"You will acquire several books for me," he said, walking into the study and taking a seat in Freed's reading chair.

" _Of course, my lord,"_ she said. He could practically hear her bowing. _"What might I find for you?"_

"The humans have a term that we do not," he said. "I wish to learn more about it."

" _Oh?"_ Of course that had her attention. Seilah was very similar in her search for knowledge, though Mard knew that she loved fiction above all things.

"They call it… BDSM," Mard said. "As well as human literature on Masters and submissives."

" _... Is this about that human?"_ Her tone was the same as always, but he was fully aware of the others' opinions on demons and humans being in any sort of relationship. He and Freed were nothing like Jackal and Lucy. Those two were destined for each other - and it had been written in the back of Jackal's own Etherious book. Mard didn't need to look in the back of his own book - to the new pages that had been added as a result of their lost contract with Zeref - to know that Freed was nothing more than a warm, pliant body to pass the time with.

Mard smirked down at the small communication device. "Do you not approve, Seilah?"

" _N-No, my lord! I would never-"_

"You have made your opinion clear," he said. "Find me those books. Everything you can, specifically concerning humans."

" _Of course, my lord,"_ she said quickly. _"Is there anything else I can do for you?"_

He paused for a moment, then grinned. "Have someone look into an engagement ball for a human woman named Amelie Justine. And make sure, if an invitation is required, I have one."

Freed didn't need to know the specifics, but Mard was going to make sure that nothing happened at that ball his mother had been so adamant about having him attend. He could keep his distance, if Freed decided not to pursue anything further between them, but this was sure to be an interesting night. Mard didn't want to miss the festivities.

* * *

 **For those who don't remember what's up with the pages being added to the end of Jackal's book, check out Chapter 2 of my JackaLu Week 2016 story. This story is a companion to that (all of JackaLu 2016 is part of the same story, with the exception of Day 7), so the rules in that universe do apply here as well. I hope you enjoyed! Drop a review to let me know what you think.**


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